There, And Back Again
by Maire Truesight
Summary: "Peter?" he called hesitantly, confused and very, very, very afraid. "What's the date again?" Peter frowned, turning to look at his brother. Edmund looked confused, and there was a strange light in his eyes that Peter couldn't explain. "September the twentieth, nineteen-forty," he replied hesitantly. Rated T for graphic descriptions of violence and possible mild language.
1. Prologue: The Ambush

**_Notes from the Author:_** _Hello, everyone! I'm back, and I have a new fic up for you. It's a multi-chapter for once, but I'm afraid you all will have to forgive me for how long this fic will take, since my update schedule is currently nonexistent. As to why it took forever for me to publish this, I'm so sorry, but I took a couple hundred detours getting back to Narnia. The title's a bit of a giveaway to which fandom my wardrobe dropped me off in._

 _Shoutout to any Ranger's Apprentice fans, there's a scene in this chapter inspired by a book in the series!_

 ** _General Disclaimer:_** _I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia franchise, nor most of the characters mentioned/featured in this story, with the exceptions of Lhiere, Falcon Silverwing, and Falcon Spotfletch. Many thanks to Professor Lewis for the beautiful world he created and to elecktrum for generously allowing me to borrow her characters for my stories. The story plot of the story, however, are my own intellectual property._

* * *

 **THERE, AND BACK AGAIN**

 **PROLOGUE - THE AMBUSH**

 _Narnia_

 _Third Day in the month of Frostmoon, Year 1004_

 _Cair Paravel_

A storm was coming.

Queen Lucy the Valiant peered out into the darkening night sky as lightning crackled on the wind. The waves smashed against the high walls of the Cair and the wind howled its song. The young queen's hand tightened on the hilt of the sole dagger she wore publicly, her face pale as the cold, wet raindrops traced their way down her cheeks. A pit was forming in her stomach, and the storm had done nothing to allay her fears.

The soft whispers of her prayer were lost to the eastern winds.

* * *

 _The Northern Borders of the Western Wood_

Edmund's grip tightened around Shafelm as the centaur-forged blade sliced through the neck of a shrieking goblin before he ducked behind an abandoned tent to catch his breath. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the (even darker) lighting in the tent before squatting on the grass to wipe his blade of blood. Around the tent, a battle continued to rage on as the dark-haired king closed his eyes tiredly, wiping rain from his face and shaking his hair, small, cold droplets falling around him. The fight had begun at dusk, and now it was two hours left to midnight. It would hopefully be the last battle in a long campaign against the largest gathering of the Fell Beasts to date ever since Jadis' death.

Three months prior, word had come to the Cair that a hag, one of Jadis' more powerful surviving lieutenants, had been stirring up trouble in the North with a party of Fell Creatures numbering a hundred strong. The two kings had set out almost immediately with a good number of their standing army and their captains and general, while the rest had remained as a defensive force at the Cair under the command of the Queens and Sir Peridan.

Since then, the hag's group had grown to number more than two hundred, while Peter and Edmund were left cleaning up and managing the aftermath of the tragedies the Fell Ones had left in their wake. It didn't help that the malcontents amongst the Narnian population (significantly amongst the Black Dwarfs) had emerged from the woodwork, and Edmund wasn't going to lie to himself and say it hadn't affected him; it had. But they'd finally caught up to them tonight, and Edmund was eager for the campaign to finally end. The storm that had struck about two hours prior had washed out the smaller campfires, though there were wildfires about the camp, as the abandoned tents caught the fire of the Narnians' torches.

Taking a deep breath, the King plunged once more into the Chaos. The rain drenched him immediately, making him blink away the droplets of water that had made their way into his eyes. Lightning cracked overhead, making Edmund swear violently as he took a step back. Several shrieks and screams highlighted the subsequent crash of thunder. The Narnian forces had been more or less on par with the two hundred-odd Fell they'd found camping in clearing when the battle had started, but the battle had gone on far too long for Edmund's taste, and the vibrant red worn by the Narnian troops seemed far outnumbered by the lifeless colors of the Fell. Keen eyes spotted more troops flooding out of the Northern and Western borders of the clearing, while the Eastern and Southern borders, where Peter and Oreius remained hidden with their remaining troops, were suspiciously clear. A small weight lifted from Edmund's chest at the added comfort that he didn't have to worry about a large enemy force suddenly overwhelming his men from their flanks.

However, there was still the problem of the still-arriving reinforcements.

His attention was grabbed by a whirl of skirts and steel to his left, eventually resolving into the bloodstained figure of Lhiere of Aisla. "Your majesty," she greeted with a half-curtsy that apparently gave her a better angle to throw a dagger at a minotaur somewhere behind him. The shield-maiden's hair was drenched, much like Edmund's own, and hung around her head limply. Her dress was soaked through with rain and blood, and the red Narnian tabard she wore over it was nothing but tatters, the golden lion barely distinguishable. Edmund rolled his eyes at her formal address. Lhiere was a good friend of his, a former slave-girl who'd rescued him during an unpleasant encounter with Calormen slavers about a year prior, and Edmund had gratefully repaid her by buying her freedom and making her a member of Narnia's Royal Court. "You never bothered with formal address in Calormen, Lhi," he complained dryly as they fought back-to-back. Lhiere grunted behind him. "You weren't a king in Calormen, and I don't believe my method of address should be your priority right now. Did you see the reinforcements?"

Edmund nodded grimly before he remembered that she couldn't see him. "Yes, I did."

"Well, they seem to increase whenever the hag chants some nonsense or other," she grumbled. "Did you notice?"

Edmund's gaze turned to the small hill in the center of the camp, where the hag was raging furiously at the mob that she was notably staying clear of. She looked to be a head shorter than Edmund, clad in gauzy, dirty robes and a hood that hid her face from view and leaning on a warped old wooden staff that had a white crystal on the tip. Edmund pursed his lips; she didn't look threatening or intimidating, just a little suspicious, but she was the reason for so much devastation across his kingdom. She seemed to be chanting another spell, and Edmund watched as yet another wave of Fell Creatures flooded out of the North and West.

"Someone needs to take care of that," Edmund murmured, making Lhiere snort. "My skirts have a lot of daggers in them still," she replied. "And my dirks are still sharp. I'll cover your back."

The two teens moved as one, though their coordination wasn't as smooth as it would have been if Peter had been his partner. But Lhiere had trained long and hard under Captain Xati, determined never to be counted as defenseless. The dynamic of moving with another person trained to fight with dual blades was also a different one, one that Edmund appreciated as Lhiere seemed more prone to anticipating his moves and adding her own attacks to compliment his. "Duck," Lhiere ordered, voice low. Edmund obeyed immediately, watching as a fury suddenly screeched and crash-landed into a troll, a dagger embedded in his forehead.

"Nice," he complimented, and he could hear Lhiere's grin in her voice. "Your sister taught me how," she replied, making Edmund pause. Lucy, his bright, innocent, sweet baby sister? "She even showed me how to hide all the daggers in my skirts."

Edmund shook his head. You learned a new thing every day, it seemed. He'd be having a talk with Lucy when they got back to the Cair.

They were almost to the hag, when a werewolf emerged from the throng and barred their way. It was hideous, fur matted with rain and blood, eyes almost completely black. Edmund prepared to engage, but Lhiere sidestepped him, teeth bared. "Go, I got this," she hissed as she danced to the side, taunting the creature. Edmund tried to protest before realizing that it was pointless and that the two were far out of his reach. Gritting his teeth, he tightened his grip on his swords and made his way up the hill unaccosted. Lhiere was right, even if he didn't like it. The hag was his priority.

Cresting the hill, he got his first real look at the hag. Her limbs were stick-thin and withered, and her skin was shriveled up and wrinkled, covered with spots and sores. Her fingers had sharp, talon-like nails. Her eyes were small and beady, with a cruel and harsh light shining from them, and instead of a normal nose and mouth she had a beak. A dangerous, cold aura emanated from her, making chills run up Edmund's spine. Rumors had danced around during the campaign that the hag had the capacity to use black magic and the experience left no doubts in Edmund's mind that it was the truth. When she spoke, Edmund shuddered- her voice was hoarse and raspy and had a sickly-sweet undercurrent. "At last, the Traitor King reveals himself to us," she rasped.

"I was beginning to wonder if we'd need to burn down the whole of the Great Western Wood to get your attention." Lightning crackled across the sky, illuminating the hag in a way that made her seem even more sinister. Edmund saw red- the grove of burned dryads, the naiads' poisoned stream, the hares' collapsed cave system, the village of small animals slaughtered in their beds- a distraction, to get his attention. He took a deep breath, tightening his grip on his sword.

"Hag, you are under arrest by order of the Four Sovereigns of Narnia for the destruction of her lands, the mass murder of her peoples, and treason to her crown," Edmund said, voice firm and cold. "If you end this battle now, your life will be spared and you will be given the chance to speak in court." Because as much as the thought of this, this _creature_ who killed innocent Narnians like it was nothing, coming to the Cair and standing in his court for a trial- as much as it made his blood boil, if he had the chance to spare the lives of his soldiers, then he would.

But the hag only sneered at him. "Pretty words and lies, _King_ Edmund, pretty words and _lies,"_ she hissed. "Whatever trial you'll give me will be filled with hate and disdain, and I'll be sentenced to death afterwards, and for what? You have no right to arrest me, Traitor King! I have only rendered justice onto those who betrayed Jadis the true Queen of Narnia, who owns the lands you claim I have defiled, and whom I have never betrayed! If you're looking for a traitor, O King, one stands before me now, wearing a false crown!"

Emotion swarmed Edmund- guilt, shame, horror, relief, disappointment- and he did his best not to let his voice shake as he spoke. "You have publicly declared your allegiance to Jadis, the White Witch, who unlawfully usurped and reigned over these lands without the blessing of Aslan for a hundred years. Since her death, my siblings and I were lawfully crowned and named Kings and Queens under Aslan over this kingdom. By aligning yourself to Jadis you have declared yourself an enemy of Narnia, her crown, and all her peoples, but I have granted you the chance for mercy. Do you yield to my authority, servant of Jadis?" Edmund intoned, keeping his eyes centered on the hag as he spoke. Most commanders would have given in, for the sake of their troops, but the hag didn't strike him as the kind of person who cared about the people under her. Instinctively, he gripped his swords and tensed up, his senses screaming that he was in danger. The hag's expression morphed into one of utter hatred as she brandished her staff. _Never,"_ she hissed.

Edmund attacked.

* * *

It was a well-known fact across the different lands in that world that both of the Narnian Kings were well-accomplished swordsmen, skilled and held in high regard by their opponents (those who lived to speak of it). And it was a common debate amongst the warriors of other nations as to which of the brothers was the better of the two. In passing, most assumed that it was Peter, who was older, taller, and physically stronger than Edmund. The opinion often sent Peter and the Narnian sword-masters doubling over in laughter, for Edmund was far more versatile and agile than his older brother, and dedication made him perfect his technique and skill to an art form. In brute strength, Peter could best his brother with a single devastating blow; but Edmund knew three different ways to redirect that blow to his advantage and use it against Peter. However, Edmund refused to allow the Narnians to brag about his skill for the best advantage it gave him: it tricked his opponents into making the mistake of underestimating him.

All too often, it was the last mistake they ever made.

Edmund's swords, named Shafelm and Liabra, flashed amber and gold in the firelight as he wielded them with grace and very little effort. His blows were still powerful and the mesmerizing movement of the blades made it hard for the naked eye to follow and defend against, and the hag was quickly tiring. She realized that she was far out of her depth in this fight; the boy before her was nothing like the helpless, weak creatures that were her normal prey. He was a warrior, well-versed in his craft and determined to see the fight through to its bitter end. There were none of her followers that she could summon to distract him while she made her getaway. While her forces still outnumbered Edmund's, his were far more skilled, and every blow they made counted. In time, her followers would be overwhelmed and slaughtered.

The hag felt like screaming in rage- her plans were falling apart before her, her forces were little use against their opponents, and her magic grew weaker and weaker with every spell she cast. She would not win this fight, but- she could have her revenge on those who destroyed her plans. She still had her tongue and her magic- it was all the weapons she needed.

"Do you know why I gathered my followers, boy?" she rasped, shuffling backwards. "I wanted them to be witness to my greatest feat- the summoning of Jadis." She cackled as it made Edmund draw up short- so, her Queen still had a hold on the boy. He clearly still felt the guilt and shame for his actions years ago. She could use this to her advantage.

"Jadis is dead," Edmund said flatly. "Aslan killed her on the fields of Beruna. Everyone saw."

"So?" the hag cackled. "Jadis is a Witch of an ancient bloodline from another world, boy, one older than this one. She existed before this world even came into being! Something as _petty_ as Death cannot hold a complete sway on her. She will return, and she will reward my loyalty when she takes back her crown to continue her rule over Narnia. And then," she added, smiling wickedly, "she will have her vengeance, on _you_."

Edmund felt cold, icy terror run through his veins at the hag's words. He'd been having more nightmares lately, not that he'd told Peter. In his dreams, she'd often threatened she would, and the hag's words built on those fears. A mist seemed to fall over his mind, and he didn't notice the hag's cackling as she stalked closer to him, pulling a dagger from her robes. The battlefield faded from his mind, replaced with an empty, desolate landscape completely covered in snow. Jadis stood where the hag had, a cruel smirk on her face. "I told you, Edmund," she purred. "You'd never escape me."

The battle continued to rage on around him, and Edmund was completely oblivious to the imminent danger as the hag stalked closer and closer to him, until she stood right over him. She grinned mirthlessly into his sightless eyes, raising the knife. Meanwhile, Edmund watched as Jadis stepped closer and closer to him, a soft smile on her face. "Join me, Edmund," she murmured, reaching out her hand. "Look how much more beautiful Narnia is like this- peaceful, tranquil, perfectly preserved in ice and snow."

Edmund's heart raced. "You're dead," he said hoarsely. "You can't be real- Aslan killed you years ago!" Jadis laughed at his protests, the way one laughs at one's pet dog when it chases its own tail. "Oh dear, dear Edmund," she said, her face serene, but Edmund could still see the cruel light in her eyes, "Do you really think that Aslan's the only one who can come back from the dead?"

Jadis's words were meant to instill fear in Edmund, but it did the opposite- instead of focusing on the threat, it reminded Edmund of the moment Aslan had come to their rescue at the fields of Beruna. He'd hardly been in the best position to see when Aslan and the girls had arrived, but he'd pushed his head up enough to see the way Aslan had looked on the top of that ridge when Aslan's roar shook the earth. For the briefest of moments, the cold had seeped from his limbs. Hope, pulsing, warm, and all-encompassing had flooded his being, even when he lost feeling in his legs. The sight of Aslan resurrected and loving him still had been the most amazing thing he'd ever experienced.

That same hope filled him now, and Jadis looked about her in horror as her snow-white landscape melted into the vibrant, new colors of spring. Edmund took a deep breath as the crisp, icy air gave way to a warm summer breeze, carrying a familiar scent and the memory of golden eyes filled with unconditional love. When he opened his eyes again, his body reacted entirely on instinct, diving to the side to dodge the hag's thrust, his swords living extensions of his arms as Liabra sheared through her staff and Shafelm dealt her a nasty slice to her side. The hag howled in pain and outrage as Edmund climbed to his feet. "Narnia is Aslan's, hag, as it ever has been and ever will be," he said, his pulse racing with adrenaline and an otherworldly strength. "And so am I."

The hag screamed in outrage, and Edmund barely had time to brace himself when an invisible force threw him backwards, crying out in pain as he hit the ground.

* * *

Peter breathed in deeply as he tugged Rhindon free of the wolf's body, the Beast's eyes still tainted red with bloodlust, even in death. Edmund was smart to have left a reserve force in the woods to the south and east of the clearing, even if Peter wasn't happy about not being able to guard his brother's back.

Wave after wave of Fell Beasts had charged through the forests, intent on reaching the clearing. Peter had had his troops stretch out along the perimeter as they saw fit. Narnian soldiers had a wide variety of attacks that suited them individually depending on their species and where they'd grown up, and Peter saw no need to limit them to a specific attack of his choosing. As long as none of the enemy made their way to the clearing and were able to ambush his brother and their forces.

The familiar call of a falcon made him pause, glancing up to see the flash of silver as another bolt of lightning appeared overhead. Being in a forest during a thunderstorm made Peter feel slightly nervous, but there was nothing for it. Thunder crashed in reply, and the rain came down harder as he gestured for a faun to take his place in the battle line.

Peter wiped the rain from his eyes and made his way to the rear of the perimeter, where Oreius was talking with Silverwing, who was perched on a branch that hung low, at the same height of Peter's head. "Ho, Silverwing," Peter greeted. "What news from the battlefield?"

If ever a peregrine Falcon appeared apprehensive, it was then. Silverwing dipped her head, turning her head slightly so she could look Peter in the eye. "High King Peter," she said, "it's your brother."

Peter's heart dropped, his vision going red. He opened his mouth to question Silverwing further, but the Falcon screeched in alarm as a bat suddenly dropped from the trees and knocked her off of her branch. Oreius shouted a warning, giving Peter just enough time to drop into a defensive stance as a goblin launched itself at him.

* * *

Two Furies dropped from the stormy clouds above him and pinned Edmund's arms to the ground. Sharp talons pierced his skin as he writhed and struggled, the pain forcing him to release his grip on Shafelm and drop it to the ground. Liabra was nowhere in sight, thrown from his grasp when the hag's spell had struck him to the ground. A ring of Fell Beasts had formed around him, and a howl went up as the blood where the Furies' talons were buried in his skin fell onto the wet grass. Edmund shook his head, trying to shake the rain out of his eyes. "The traitor's blood is spilled!" a dwarf near him cheered.

It sent his companions into a frenzy, and the next few minutes was nothing but a blur of pain; Edmund was kicked, lashed, beaten, punched, and scratched as the Fell creatures worked themselves into a bloodlust. He choked on his own blood as a goblin dropped a club on his ribs, and he barely bit back a scream as the Furies were pushed and jostled by the others, twisting their talons in his arm. Vision blurred with pain, he growled as the dwarf from earlier kicked his head repeatedly, cackling as he unwound a lash from his belt. A hoarse scream finally escaped his lungs as a minotaur, carrying a heavy pikeaxe, slammed the flat of the blade, and a sick feeling crept into his stomach as he heard the bone snap.

* * *

Sir Kanell of the Ettin's Keep frowned as the minotaur he'd been fighting suddenly disengaged from their fight. His blood was racing, telling him to pursue, but his strategist's mind insisted on waiting and taking stock. The rain continued to pour nonstop, and he shook his head slightly, letting the cold clear his head. He glanced around, exchanging a worried glance with Xati as the two stamped nervously, eager to pursue the battle. Xati's foal, Lhiere, frowned as she managed to catch her opponent, a turned dryad in the back with one of her daggers. "Why are they running?" she asked, confused, absently wiping her blades on her ruined skirts. Xati's eyes narrowed as the Fell retreated behind the hill where the hag had been standing earlier.

Most of the fires were washed out by now, and the battlefield grew darker and darker as the sky continued to weep. Kanell pursed his lip as the Fell, apparently having regrouped, cheered lustily. His troops had regrouped as well, looking at him for orders to charge, but Kanell shook his head. There was something they were missing.

A chestnut Stallion approached, and Oreius nodded as he recognized Phillip. The Horse seemed worried as he tilted his head sideways. "Have you seen Edmund?" he asked. Kanell's brow creased in worry. "No," he responded. "I have not seen his majesty since the battle started."

"I last saw him just as he was about to take on the hag," Lhiere interjected, and Phillip whinnied angrily at her. "And you just left him?" he demanded. Lhiere clenched the hilts of her dirks. "I had to lure off a werewolf that wanted him for dinner, sorry," she snapped. Xati galloped up and swept her young protégé onto her back. "Peace, foal," she chastised.

"Where's the hag!" Phillip demanded. "Where's Edmund?"

Kanell's face paled as Edmund's pained scream rose above the Fell Beast's cries.

* * *

Edmund dropped his head back, breathing heavily. His face felt hot, and the cold rain was a relief. He knew he should be taking stock of his injuries, but honestly, _everywhere_ hurt. In a pinch, he could (probably) move into a semi-defensive position. Of all his injuries, he was fairly sure his broken ribs were the worst.

He was jostled out of his musings as the hag suddenly appeared above him. "Behold, False King, the faithful of Jadis!" she cried with a flourish, to the roars of her followers. "Do you know, I've spent these past years searching every spellbook, every record, every warped and stained old scroll for a spell capable of bringing the White Queen back?"

"I don't suppose you failed and decided to give up?" Edmund remarked semi-hopefully. The hag cackled down at him. "You have your sense of humor still? No, no I didn't. I found an old parchment with half a spell written on it, but enough. No, I have the power and capability to return Jadis to us, don't you worry, boy," she sneered, "but I found that I lacked one essential ingredient."

"What, did you need to fall in love?" Edmund mused, remembering the many, many fairytales that he'd read in _That Other Place._ The hag snorted. "No, nothing so drastic. Just your blood."

Edmund felt his blood freeze at the thought before lunging at her. His vision went white with pain, and he was forced to collapse on the ground, even as a flash of green caught his eye, emerging from the crowd. It was an evergreen dryad; she smirked cruelly down at him, her sharp features cold and sinister. There had been a number of evergreens who'd supported Jadis during her reign, Edmund remembered. The dryad cradled a bundle of rags in her arms, which she presented to the hag with a bow.

The hag cried out a word he didn't know, and bowed to her waist to the small bundle. Trepidation ran through Edmund as the rest of the Fell followed her example. The hag met his gaze and smirked, pulling the rags apart and lifting out the item wrapped within.

Edmund's blood ran cold as he recognized the shattered remains of Jadis's wand.

"At last, the correct price will be paid," the hag murmured in his ear as she waved the wand before him. "The lion should never have died in your place, or the prophecy would have remained unfulfilled and Jadis would still be queen." Edmund glared at her, and the hag leered at him. "I was there that night, you know. I saw the hopeless look in Aslan's eyes as he approached us, I sheared his golden mane from his head, smelled his blood staining the ground as he breathed his last."

"Aslan is _alive,"_ Edmund hissed, clenching his fists as he glared at her. "Nothing can keep Him or stop Him, not even Death."

"And if Aslan can come back from the dead, boy, then why can't Jadis?" The hag retorted. "Granted, the methods required are trickier than whatever your precious Aslan pulled, and it requires a human sacrifice, but she _can_ come back. I only regret that she could not claim her revenge on you herself, but I'm certain your siblings will suffice."

The hag cackled and stepped back, waving at a minotaur, the same one that had broken his ribs. He was still holding his pikeaxe, and Edmund watched impassionedly as he raised it aloft and began to spin and toss it, demonstrating his skill and strength to his fellows. Occasionally, the minotaur would drop the blade within a hairsbreadth of Edmund's skin, but the Just King refused to flinch. It made his tormentor angrier and angrier until finally, he stopped, panting and glaring down at his intended victim. Edmund met his gaze steadily. "Not bad," he remarked casually, as if he was teasing Peter at the training areas at the Cair. "Think I might have a go now?" he asked. The minotaur grunted and stalked up to him, bracing himself. Edmund met his gaze defiantly, refusing to look away.

 _I am Aslan's,_ he thought to himself, watching as the minotaur began to lift the pikeaxe. _And that's more than I ever deserved._

The mob surrounding him roared in approval as the minotaur roared a victory cry. "Death to the traitor!" he bellowed, positioning the blade. Edmund watched in dreading anticipation as the blade rose up, up, up- and frowned in confusion as it continued past the point where it should've swung down to deal the killing blow. Silence fell upon the mob as the minotaur fell backwards, a red-fletched arrow in his back. Edmund's heart swelled with hope as a horn blew a rich note out over the silence and familiar battle-cries echoed in the clearing.

"FOR NARNIA, AND FOR ASLAN!"

* * *

The horn blew a clear, noble fanfare as Peter and Oreius galloped down into the clearing, their soldiers right behind them. The Narnians already in the clearing cheered, strength renewed as the two groups joined forces. Kanell and Phillip, the latter carrying Lhiere on his back, galloped up to join Peter and Oreius in the charge while Xati made her way for a small outcrop to the South-west, where gryphons and eagles were dropping off a troop of dwarven archers, the centauress already unslinging her bow from her back.

As they approached the mob of Fell Beasts, Arthur Ravenwolf emerged from the pack and jumped a snow leopard, killing the creature with a swipe of his paw. "To the King," the Wolf howled, standing over his kill. The gryphons and eagles took to the skies, despite the rain, dispatching the circling vultures, bats, and furies. Xati's cry reached Peter's ears as a rain of arrows took out the Fell nearest the center of the mob- and Edmund.

Xati's volley took out the two Furies that held Edmund in place. Wincing as he tore himself from their limp grasps, he flung his hand out- catching the hilt of Shafelm as he did. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, blocking out the pain of his injuries enough for him to get on his feet and slay the Fell in his immediate reach. Those set to retaliate fell to a rain of red-fletched arrows. Edmund ducked his head to avoid arrows as best as he could, unknowingly leaving himself open to a stab from the Black Dwarf from earlier. The Dwarf grinned as he prepared to kill the defenseless boy before him, just as the jaws of Arthur Ravenwolf closed around his neck.

* * *

The hag screeched furiously as the Narnians broke through the mob in defense of their king, even as the dark-haired youth stood shakily, gripping his sword in his right arm. Blood loss and pain made his movements sluggish, but he was clearly still capable of defending himself from a direct attack, and the wolf was doing a good job defending him from anything else. There would be no chance for her to cast the spell she'd been planning.

Gesturing to the evergreen, she lay Jadis' wand in the rags once more; it had taken them far too long to retrieve it. It would not do for all their efforts to be lost in one night. Bowing deeply, the evergreen turned and made her way through the melee: she would hide and protect the shattered wand now.

Blood seeped from the wound the boy king had dealt her earlier and the hag snarled as she realized there was very little chance she'd escape the field alive. Her followers' numbers were depleted and it would take time for them to recover their strength. She would die, and with her the secrets of the spell-books she'd found to bring back their queen. Months of work, lost! Because of one would-be king.

Cold anger settled in the hag's gut as she raised her hands and began to chant. She refused to lose everything and have gained nothing, no- she would have her revenge. She remembered a spell that had caught her eye in her search- a dangerous one that would drain her of her power for all its potency, but that was no surprise, and she was more than willing to pay the price. It was expected if one was casting a spell to reweave the threads of time.

* * *

A dread feeling rose in the pit of Edmund's stomach as an eerie chanting reached his ears. The hag. With everything that had happened, he'd completely forgotten about the hag. He whirled. She was just meters away from him. Vaguely he registered that whatever spell she was casting, she was using her hands and Jadis' wand, along with the evergreen dryad, had disappeared, but it was something he could worry about later.

The storm picked up above them, but now the wind seemed to have added a sinister note to its song, setting him on edge. Gripping his sword, Edmund made his way to her. He had no idea what she was doing but he knew she had to be stopped at all costs. There was no time to flag down another Narnian to have the archers do it or one of their air troops. He needed to take care of it- now.

At any cost.

Edmund breathed heavily as he crossed the scant ten meters to the hag. Every step felt like setting his body on fire, but he needed to stop her. She glared at him as he approached, and now the spell seemed to be entirely focused on him. The chant reverberated in his skull, making him pause, and a mist seemed to be rising from the ground. He grit his teeth, stumbling as his knees nearly gave out.

 _Strength, dear Heart- Remember Me. I am Here."_

Edmund breathed heavily, focusing on the Voice. Warmth spread through his body, numbing the pain, and he took another step forward. Another. Another. Dimly, he registered Peter calling his name through the dim haze that was his mind. No, no distractions. Edmund focused on the memory of Aslan, the hope and love and acceptance and grace of the Lion. Mind cleared, he met the hag's gaze. Her eyes were practically ablaze with fury, voice high-pitched and hate-filled.

Edmund glared back at her and raised his sword.

The hag's spell reached its climax as Edmund yelled a fierce battle-cry, and a bright light blinded him as he swung Shafelm through the hag's neck. There was a choking sound, and Edmund fell to his knees as a loud and brilliant _ZICRACKKKKK!"_ filled his ears and his vision turned to a blinding white. It stole his senses- his nerves felt exposed and his muscles trembled, his vision was white and his hearing was nonexistent. His throat felt raw, and he vaguely thought that his hearing was clearing because he heard screaming-

 _Oh._ That was him.

Edmund collapsed completely in the grass, Shafelm dropping from his nerveless grasp. Everything seemed so infinitely far away now- the clash of battle was muffled, and his vision was clearing slightly, but it felt like he was in a tunnel and the rest of the world was on the other side. Wet drops hit his suddenly dry skin, and he mused in annoyance that it was still raining. Breathing, moving, existing- it seemed like such a burden, and he thought that it would be nice to pass out right about now.

His eyelids fluttered, and he couldn't hear anything anymore. It was completely silent. He still felt raw, exposed, but- the tunnel was closing, and soon all he'd see was darkness, so he didn't think it would hurt much longer. He'd worry about everything else later, like how mad Peter probably was. Peter.

As if by magic, his brother's face suddenly filled his remaining vision, and he dimly thought he could hear his brother's voice calling his name. Peter's face was crumpled, and it looked like he was crying. Edmund tried to speak, to reassure his brother, but found he couldn't and his throat still hurt, so he settled for squeezing Peter's hand. Peter's mouth was moving, but Edmund still couldn't hear him, so he just smiled at Peter.

The tunnel was closing faster, so Edmund tried to speak again, succeeding a little better this time. "Gotta go, Peetah," he mumbled, eyes fluttering shut. The last thing he remembered before darkness claimed him was Peter's voice, screaming his name.

* * *

Edmund was (unfortunately) all-too-familiar with the feelings associated with the return to consciousness after long-term unconsciousness, as well as the symptoms that came with it.

 _Memory loss, nausea, confusion, headaches, irritability, discoordination of limbs, loss of appetite," Lucy listed off tiredly, glaring at her very sheepish older brother. Peter smirked from the sidelines as Lucy went into what they'd fondly termed as 'Healer Mode' on Edmund, who'd nearly died, again. Their youngest sister was indomitable on her own. In 'Healer Mode,' she was practically a force of nature._

The dark-haired teen grimaced at the thought of his (undoubtedly furious) siblings. They would surely be insufferable after this. He doubted he'd be able to escape his and Peter's suite for a month, at the very least.

Which he didn't really mind right now. He was still exhausted and tired, and his limbs felt odder than usual, and the headache was particularly noticeable. Maybe he'd even listen to Lucy for once and take his medicinal teas like he was supposed to instead of substituting it with coffee. Anything to get rid of this pounding headache.

Someone shook his shoulder roughly, making Edmund groan in response. While he was pleasantly surprised to find that such rough treatment wasn't making him scream in pain like he expected (did that mean his condition had been bad enough to merit taking the cordial?) he _was_ rather peeved to be so rudely handled after his ordeal. Shifting, he frowned as the sheets scratched against his exposed skin. The clothes he was wearing felt threadbare and old, which was… odd. He and his siblings had long protested their subjects' tendency to give them such luxurious belongings, but they'd been treated to aghast expressions and very serious lectures on the propriety required of royalty, along with the Narnian customs of creating clothing that was functional, comfortable, and beautiful.

Someone shook him again, making Edmund shake his head and prop himself up on his elbows, blinking unhappily as his eyes readjusted to the dim lighting. Again- odd. Peter hated it when it was dark, which was why the hearth in their suite was almost always lit. And the room felt small, the air stifled and stale. Their bed suite had soaring ceilings and tall windows that let the wind flow through the room freely.

"Oi. Stop being such a selfish little prat and get up already, will you?"

Edmund froze. Shaking him was a much younger version of Peter than the one he was most used to. Not-Peter glared at him angrily, dressed as they had in That Other Place, his hair still in that old ridiculous haircut and not the shaggy mop it was these days, and with actual loathing written on his face. "Stop acting up, will you? Mum's upset enough as it is and she doesn't need _you_ making this day worse," Peter snapped, getting up off of his haunches and standing. Edmund glanced down at himself with a sinking feeling in his chest. He was also dressed differently, and his body– which had undergone a series of ridiculous growth spurts over the years- was much shorter than he was used to. The room he was in was a small, cramped space with bunks built into the walls and scratchy mattresses on the floor, like the one he'd been lying on. Nearly hyperventilating, he lifted his shirt and ran his hand over it- smooth, creamy white skin, untainted, unmarred.

"Peter?" he called hesitantly, confused and very, very, very afraid. "What's the date again?"

Something in his brother's voice made Peter stop and look at him questioningly. Edmund just shook his head self-deprecatingly. "I forgot is all, sorry."

Peter frowned. It had been a long, long time since Edmund had last sounded like that- had sounded anything that wasn't either smug, angry, or brattish. Almost as long as it had been since his apologies had sounded that sincere. He turned, looking at his brother. Edmund looked confused, and there was a strange light in his eyes that Peter couldn't explain. "September the twentieth, nineteen-forty," he replied hesitantly. "You alright, Ed?"

He didn't miss the pause before his brother replied, getting up from the mattress. "Yeah, Pete." Edmund murmured.

 _You alright, Ed?" Peter asked, gripping his brother's arm. Edmund gave him a wan smile, donning his helmet. "Yeah, Pete. You?" Peter stared at him for a long moment. Edmund knew that Peter wasn't happy that they wouldn't be going into battle together for this- what would hopefully be the last battle of the campaign. Suddenly, he was being held in his brother's arms, and Edmund tensed for a second before returning the embrace. "Don't go where I can't follow, Ed," he murmured, and Edmund closed his eyes. "Promise me."_

 _I-I'll try my best, Peter."_

"I'm just fine."

* * *

 ** _Notes from the Author:_** _Whee! It's up! Hahahahaha yes! A 'quick' stop in the Hobbit archives gave me an irrational love for time travel and all the nuisances that come with it. Unfortunately, I decided to bring that love with me back to Narnia, and poor Edmund has become the victim._

 _Thanks again to elecktrum for the use of her fantastic characters; I highly recommend you all check her stories (if you haven't already). Just a warning though, the length of the prologue won't be the basis for the rest of the chapters; I don't have a required length for my chapters and most will likely be shorter than the prologue._

 _Reviews are loved, as always, as is criticism. I_ am _sorry if I don't really reply much to the reviews, since my wifi's crap and I generally don't have the wifi strength to reply (or I just plain forget to.) I will try to work on that and reply to comments and questions._

 _Thanks for reading!_

 _-M_


	2. Chapter 1: Reality Divided

_**Notes from the Author** : Hi, all! I know, I'm a horrible human being- in my defense, did you know school's started? And as I would very much like to graduate, I'm afraid that writer's block competed with school and school won out. But- many thanks to my English/Journalism teacher whose lessons have given me the means to continue to write this and the shared commiseration of my new classmates, who have given me a lot of support and helpful consideration (along with ample encouragement- I'm looking at you, Enz.)_

 _Anyway, this isn't as long as the prologue, but I'm rather proud of it, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And thanks so much for the feedback! I'm left amazed, and slightly embarrassed for my updating schedule. Okay, more than slightly._

 _ **Replies to Reviews:** _

_**Elecktrum:** Thanks for the feedback, E! I hope you like this installment, though I'm afraid it's a tad more serious and with not as much humor. And many thanks once more for graciously allowing me to use your universe for this fic._

 _ **Alicia Olivia Mirza** : I know, right? Time travel is always interesting to read, and as to Ed being the victim, I have a weakness for younger brother characters getting hurt. I hope you enjoy the new chapter!_

 _ **Narniagirl (guest):** Thanks, though as for the originality I must bow in deference to the amazing writers from the Hobbit and LoTR fandoms, where I got the idea to write one for Narnia. Thanks for your support, hope you enjoy!_

 _ **GreenHorn22:** Definitely not! But my schedule is unfortunately very tight which leaves me less time than I'd like to write. But this will be a long, twisty tale to tell. _

_**PaintingMusic14:** Haha, here you go!_

 _ **Yasgirl(guest):** Woohoo, thanks so much!_

 _ **Blue Teller** : Thanks so much for the positive feedback! I wish I could rush this, but I wanted to give you as best a chapter as I could, so I hope you like this one. _

_**FlyAway98:** I updated as soon as I could! Haha, Edmund's role in this story will be drastically different, and yet similar to the original plotline. I hate to leave you hanging but here you go!_

 _ **AlphaGuardianDelCieloWW:** Here you go, enjoy! Thanks for reading!_

 _ **JustValiant1717:** I'm glad you loved it, and I'm sorry it took longer than expected. Scheds, you know, and needs must. But here you go! I hope it brings a little more light into your world._

 _ **Kiele M(guest):** Thanks so much for thinking that! Here's the update you were waiting for!_

 _ **sweetT1diabetic (guest):** Here it is! Updated! (Originality again, credits to the multiple time travel fics of the LoTR) but I'm here and I hope you haven't left me yet!_

 _ **General Disclaimer** : I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia franchise, nor most of the characters mentioned/featured in this story, with the exceptions of shield-maiden Lhiere, Falcon Silverwing, Falcon Spotfletch, and the Mare Fleur. Many thanks to Professor Lewis for the beautiful world he created and to the lovely elecktrum who generously allowed me to use her characters for my stories. The overall plot of the story, however, are my intellectual property._

* * *

 **THERE, AND BACK AGAIN**

 **CHAPTER 1 - REALITY DIVIDED**

 _Narnia_

 _32_ _nd_ _of Snowbrice, Year 1003_

 _Cair Paravel_

EDMUND FROWNED AT HIS REFLECTION as he studied the changes his body had undergone over the past several months in the mirror, carefully tracing the large, jagged scars that now crisscrossed his torso.

It had now been an entire month since Edmund had finally returned home to Cair Paravel from his up-close introduction to Calormen's slave trade, and suffice it to say that it was not an experience he recommended anyone else try.

The young king's scowl grew deeper as he traced a particularly noticeable scar that ran from his right shoulder blade to his left hip. The wound had been one of several inflicted after his first attempt to escape, before his newest friend and member of his and his siblings' court – Lhiere of Aisla – had helped him sneak out of Istfa Tarkaan's mansion at the expense of her own well-being.

To date, only Lhiere knew the true extent of the wounds Edmund had sustained during his time in Calormen. Edmund knew that this couldn't last forever- Peter had been growing suspicious by his sudden modesty when the two brothers had been perfectly comfortable changing in each other's presence before, and Lucy had already been suspicious when Edmund turned down her request to look over the wounds after she'd given him a drop of cordial. Lhiere looked more and more uneasy with each day that passed without him talking to his siblings, but he wasn't ready yet for them to know. Thankfully, the Galman maiden knew how to keep her lips sealed.

"Ed?"

Edmund looked up at the strangled sound of his name being called, paling dramatically as he caught sight of Susan behind him in the mirror's smooth glass. The Gentle Queen's eyes were trained on his back – equally marred with angry scars – and what she could see of his chest.

Edmund's mind blanked out in panic- _he wasn't ready, she couldn't see, she'd tell they'd know nononononononono-_ when Susan moved in a blur of rose-colored fabric, stepping into the room and spinning to lock the door in the same breath, before crossing the distance between her and her brother to draw Edmund into a warm embrace.

"Oh, Eddie," the soft, lilting tones of her voice murmured into his hair as he froze, still adjusting to touches that weren't meant to harm or discipline. Three months on the run had left him unused to and wary of simple touches of affection that had meant the world to him before. Eventually, he managed to relax and lean into his sister's hug, tears brimming in his eyes as the simple action began to tear down the walls he'd managed to build around his heart.

"We suspected something like this must have happened to change you so, but- oh, Eddie, never like this," Susan sighed softly, voice strained. Had Edmund chosen to look up at that moment, he would have seen his older sister valiantly fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over her cheeks. Edmund stiffened again.

"What do you mean, you suspected?" he asked, voice tight. Susan drew back and looked him in the eye with a sad smile. "You avoid us now," she replied, brushing his bangs out of his eyes tenderly. "You flinch away from every touch offered and you wander off by yourself more times than what is healthy- for you and for my poor heart," she added with a smile.

"When?" she asked, voice tight but still caring, and Edmund was relieved that there was no trace of pity in Susan's eyes, only love and concern- and something else he couldn't quite identify. Edmund sighed, licking his lips and avoiding her soft gaze. Part of him wanted to try and redirect the situation, avoid talking about it altogether, but he knew that Susan wouldn't drop this. If he talked to her, however, maybe he could get her to keep it from Lucy and Peter.

He shrugged, keeping his gaze fixed on the wall behind Susan. "Calormen wasn't exactly a vacation, Su," he murmured softly. Susan shook her head. "I know _that,_ but… you told us that you'd been left to die in the desert, that Lhiere had found you and helped you while she'd been on her way to her master's house, and after that you'd managed to find your way back to Archenland, which was where we found you," she accused. Edmund winced. "I… might have skipped over a few fundamental points in that summary, he admitted.

"Oh, Ed," Susan huffed softly, tugging her brother close to her chest. Edmund tensed up, still wary of physical contact after his encounter with the Calormen slave trade, but the reassuring motion of Susan stroking her calloused palm across his back and the gentleness of the embrace helped him relax into his older sister's arms. He only had a few inches left to go before he outgrew her altogether, he realized, and it had been a teasing point of banter between them, but for now, he was grateful that he was still shorter than her as she buried her nose in his hair.

"My strong, brave baby brother," she murmured, drawing back and looking over him, her thumb caressing his cheek. "I understand that you won't feel comfortable talking to us about all of it, Ed, I do," she said. "But I do hope and pray that you'll be able to trust us enough to tell us some of it, in time." Edmund nodded numbly, looking at his shoes.

"I'm not strong, you know," he said eventually. "I gave in to them eventually, when holding out became too hard. I gave in and compromised, even when I knew I shouldn't have. I broke and became someone I didn't even recognize anymore."

"But you're here, aren't you?" Susan replied. "You're here, and maybe you've changed a bit, but that's part and parcel of growing up, even if your circumstances were more extreme than most. But," she said, smiling and lifting Edmund's chin until he looked at her, "I can look at you, and I still see Ed, the selfless Just King of Narnia, the noble Knight of Aslan, and the loyal and amazing little brother I love. Maybe you can't see it yet, but I do. We all do, Ed." Her voice grew softer and her eyes glistened as she pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"You are so much stronger and braver than you realize, Edmund Pevensie," she murmured as tears traced their way down her cheeks. "And I am so proud of you."

Edmund's throat seemed to closed up as he closed his eyes and leaned into Susan's embrace once more.

"Thanks, Su."

* * *

 _England_

 _September 20, 1940_

 _Finchley_

There was nothing there.

Edmund ran his hands over where he knew there should've been ridges and bumps and imperfections, where his nerves still numbed and the dark marks of where Jadis's wand had stabbed him through and through and left him paralyzed on the fields of Beruna what felt like an entire lifetime ago. Instead, his slender, uncalloused fingers simply traced invisible patterns and lines on pale, unmarred skin stretched across his frame slightly because of hard rations- nothing compared to after the White Witch's enchantment* or after Calormen.

Edmund closed his eyes. He had nothing- no proof or evidence to reassure him that Narnia was real and not a figment of his imagination. Nothing beyond vivid memories that could be passed off as severe hallucinations or intense dreams.

And wasn't _that_ a terrifying thought- because he'd _changed_ in Narnia. He'd seen the price of his treachery and felt the life-changing love of a Lion who'd laid His life down for a brat who didn't deserve it. But if Narnia was just a dream, then he wasn't Edmund the Just, he was just Edmund Pevensie.

Edmund Pevensie, who'd betrayed his siblings. Edmund Pevensie, conceited, selfish, self-absorbed brat. Edmund Pevensie, undeserving.

Edmund Pevensie, who Aslan had died for.

A chill ran down Edmund's spine as he remembered the warm golden glow of Aslan's eyes, the fullness of his love, everlasting and unconditional, the feeling of redemption that had filled him when Aslan had crested the rise above the fields of Beruna, and he shook his head. Maybe, by some small miracle, he was capable of dreaming up Cair Paravel, Jadis, the coronation, Calormen, Mister Tumnus, the Beavers, all of it. But there was no way his mind could have conjured up Aslan.

No one could've dreamed up Aslan.

"Edmund?"

Déjà vu swept over Edmund as his eyes rose to see Susan staring at him in the mirror. Unlike that day in Cair Paravel when his oldest sister had discovered the scars he'd gained in Calormen, Susan's expression was filled with annoyance and frustration. "What on earth are you doing?"

Edmund briefly thought to apologize for taking so long when his mind exploded with-

- _painangerbetrayalabandonmentwhatdoyoucareanyway-_

 _-lostconfusionregretshomehomeloveeverlasting-_

 _-fathergonePeterSusanLucydontcareaboutmeIdontcareaboutthemgoodriddance-_

 _-NarniaPeterbrotherSusanLucysisterslovecareKingsQueensNarniansloveloveAslanAslan-_

 _-whoareyouwhoareyouwhatisthiswhyissheherewhydoesshecareGETOUTOFMYHEAD-_

 _-ASLAN!_

"Edmund!"

Edmund blinked, head pounding, gaping at an enraged Susan. "Honestly, I don't know what I expected from _you_ anyway," she sneered. "Never mind that this day's hard enough for mum as it is, you have to go and make it harder! I've had it with you brattishness Edmund Pevensie! Hurry up and get downstairs!" she snapped.

Fireworks exploded behind Edmund's eyes, making him clench his fists. Susan noticed and scoffed at him. "Get your act together, Edmund- if you aren't ready to leave, we'll leave without you. Maybe a bomb dropping on your head will do that temper of yours some good." On that cold note, Susan spun on her heel and marched away. Edmund gasped in pain the second he was sure she couldn't hear, hands gripping the sides of his head as he crumpled on the cold floor of the bathroom. Then, suddenly as it came, the pain was gone, leaving him panting on the chilly tiles, gripping his temples. Edmund took in several deep breaths as his mind caught up to him from wherever it'd gone, and his conversation (if it could be called that) with Susan left him with a sinking feeling in his gut. Standing (and nearly falling again from nausea), Edmund gripped the side of the door for support and pushed himself into the hallway, chasing after his sister.

"Su, wait!"

Edmund drew short when he reached the top of the staircase, looking down at Susan, halfway out the door. The raven-haired girl didn't look up at him as she spoke. "What do you want, Ed?" She asked, voice icy. Edmund paused, biting his tongue as he realized that he had no idea how to explain anything, from Narnia to his actions in the bathroom. His head was starting to hurt again, and he pinched himself to keep from focusing on the throbbing in his temples. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry," he said finally.

Susan froze, looking back at him. "What?"

"I'm sorry." Edmund bit his lip, meeting his sister's stare. "I shouldn't have delayed- I know I'm not the only one having a hard time of it today. I'll try to do better."

Susan's brow furrowed as her eyes swept over him. "Are you okay, Ed? Did something happen?" she asked, wary. Edmund bit his lip, refusing to look elsewhere as he shook his head, a swell of nausea and heartache rising in an unpleasant combination. "Nothing happened, Su," he said firmly, even as a sense of - _liarpretenderwhoareyouwhatareyouwhatishappeningGETOUT-_ filled his head, fighting back tears as the pain suddenly climaxed. "And I'm fine.

"Just fine."

* * *

 _Somewhere in the English Countryside_

"Something's wrong with Edmund."

Susan's voice was firm, cold, and matter-of-fact as she stated her observation, her gaze not meeting Peter's, instead choosing to watch the countryside rolling away outside their compartment window.

It had been five hours since they'd departed the London train station and an hour and a half since the compartment had been all their own. Lucy had taken advantage of the solitude to cuddle up to her older sister and cry herself to sleep, and Edmund had followed her example (sans the cuddling and crying) and was huddled against the far corner of the space, forehead knotted as he slept fitfully.

Peter snorted sardonically, seated across from her and Lucy. "Isn't that the problem?" he replied, voice dry. Susan scowled, fighting off the protective wave that swept over her. Time was when Edmund had been close to them all, most especially to Peter. But when the money they received from their rich grand-aunt in France had reduced drastically, their mother had chosen to pull Edmund from boarding school and send him to a run-down public school near their home. Susan remembered well the spindly little figure that had tearfully hugged her and Peter good-bye at the train station, comparing him to the bitter, angry boy they'd come home to a few months later when the war had eventually drafted their father away from them and forced their schools to close in the middle of the term.

"It's not the normal kind of wrong that we have to deal with now," Susan objected, thinking to the veiled threats, the brattish temper, the bitter disregard and lack of care with which the younger of her brothers had chosen to display his 'affection' for his siblings. "But rather the lack of it

"How so?" Peter asked curiously.

"We had a spat this morning- the usual sort when Edmund's being his beastly self. He wasn't even talking to me, just clenching his fists and not looking me in the eye. I got cross, threatened to leave him behind, and then he runs after me and actually apologizes."

Peter straightened up, a strange expression on his face. "Apologized? Are you sure he simply wasn't being sarcastic like normal?"

Susan shook her head, mind going back to the scene with Edmund standing above her at the stop of the staircase and her all but out the door. When Edmund had looked her in the eye and apologized, her cold, factual, dark little world had crumbled just a little with the expression in her brother's eyes. She'd stared into his face and seen sincerity, longing, guilt, _love,_ (and something else she couldn't quite name)- all emotions she'd lost hope of ever finding in Edmund since returning to Finchley. "No, Peter. The way he used to look when he apologized, before he went home- _that's_ what he looked like."

Peter's eyes widened and he pursed his lips, staring out the window in disbelief. Susan knew the sudden attitude change in Edmund had hurt Peter most of all. Peter had doted on his baby brother every chance he'd had before their brief separation. He'd tried reaching out at first in an attempt to bring Edmund back to them, only to get hurt by Edmund's swift rebuttals. To defend himself from the sharp sting of rejection, Peter had lashed back out at Edmund, and the two had gone back and forth multiple times until the rift between them became seemingly impassable. By now, Peter had given as much hurt as he'd received, and if Edmund was truly trying to reach out, Susan feared Peter's pride wouldn't allow him to reciprocate.

Shaking her head at her older brother's stubbornness, Susan redirected her attention to Edmund in an attempt to give Peter the time he needed to process the information. He was still curled protectively on his side, facing away from them, though from what Susan could see of his expression, his sleep was nowhere near as peaceful as Lucy's was. He kept fidgeting and gripping his arm, shaking his head and muttering names that made no sense. One name in particular stood out- Asla or Aslan or something. Susan frowned in confusion, certain that Edmund had no friends or acquaintances with a name that exotic.

 _And who might this 'Aslan' be?_ Susan wondered to herself.

"It might have been just a one-time thing, you know," Peter mumbled softly. "No use getting in a fuss over such a small incident."

Susan's temper rose within her as the emotional baggage of the past several months tore her control apart at the seams. She'd been struggling to remain calm and stable in the midst of everything: when Edmund had first screamed in their parents' faces, when their father had been drafted to the army, when their mother had calmly told them that she would not be allowed to retreat with them to the safety of the country, and the near-nightly air raids that had threatened to destroy them and their home. Their uprooting and departure, combined with Lucy's withdrawal and Peter's desire to join an army of ill-prepared and likely-dead boys were an extra amount of pressure in her heart, and now, they had a chance that Edmund was trying to come back to them- but _Peter_ was too stubborn and proud to let him!

"You're just scared," she hissed angrily. "Scared that I'm right and that Eddie is back, because you're just so _used_ to being able to blame him! And you just don't want to have to deal with things the way you used to because he's just a convenient punching bag for you now, isn't he? He's not even your brother anymore- you just need someone to get your emotions out on, and if _our brother_ is back then you don't have that anymore- well grow up, Peter! Because I want my brother back and in that moment, it was him."

"You're just desperate for _someone_ to be on your side because Lucy's on mine!" Peter spit back.

"I don't want there to be sides! I want it to be the four of _us_ again, like it was before the war!"

"Yeah, well tough luck there, the war exists and Dad's out there fighting it-"

"-and you're just _so_ eager to join him, aren't you! You just want to leave and run off to war and be a hero, well news flash Peter!" Tears flooded Susan's eyes, and her throat tightened. "People _die_ in wars and you probably would if you were there!"

"At least I'd feel needed, wouldn't I? Like I actually had a purpose!" Peter's eyes blazed, and Susan felt her own temper flare at the expression of righteous anger and justified indignation.

"You do!" Susan cried, lowering her voice and steadying when Lucy whimpered at her sharp movements and Edmund tensed. Their previous argument had been comprised of stiff movements, hissed retorts and sharp whispers, trying to keep from waking their younger siblings, and the two relaxed as Lucy curled further into Susan's side and Edmund simply muttered once more and slumped against the seat.

Susan sighed, relaxing, and looked Peter in the eye. "You _do_ have a purpose Peter, and it's here, with us. We need you Peter- Edmund _needs_ you. You didn't see the look in his eyes when he apologized."

"Exactly," Peter said, voice cold, turning away from her once more. "I _didn't_ see it."

Susan tensed up once more, cold fury freezing her blood at her brother's dismissive attitude, only to jump slightly when the train conductor suddenly appeared at the door to their compartment, knocking loudly on the panels. Edmund started awake, skin pale and eyes wide, while Lucy yelped, nearly falling off the bench and Peter swore softly at the sudden sound, half rising with his hands balled into fists as the conductor stepped into the small space.

"Sorry to wake ye lad, missie," the conductor said with a tip of his hat towards a startled Edmund and a disoriented Lucy, "but your stop will be rollin' round here in about half an hour- best the four of you get yourselves prepared."

Peter hid his fists behind his back and sat down, evidently still trying to calm down, his face still red from their argument and from the sudden shock. Lucy was rubbing her eyes, trying to wake up faster, and Edmund looked miserable- near sick, even- so Susan was the one to smile gratefully at the old conductor, voice sweet and pleasant. "Thank you very much sir, we will," she said. The man looked pleased and tipped his hat in her direction as well before stepping out.

Lucy looked around her, small tears appearing in her eyes. "I _had_ hoped it was all just a bad dream," she murmured softly. Susan felt the ice that had formed in her veins melt as she pulled her sister to her chest. "Don't cry, Lu," she sighed. "We'll be alright, won't we?" she asked with a pointed look at Peter. Peter returned her gaze evenly, softening his stare only when Lucy turned to look at him. "It _could_ be a lot worse, Lu," he said softly.

"How?" Lucy asked miserably. _Peter's suicidal dream could've been fulfilled and he'd be with Dad in the trenches,_ Susan thought bitterly as she glared harder at the oldest of them, who blanched slightly, at a loss as to what he should say.

"We're all still together, aren't we?" Edmund chipped in softly with a small smile at Lucy. Lucy glanced at him warily, her unspoken question of _'Is that really a good thing?'_ hanging in the air as Edmund's smile dropped suddenly and he turned away, skin paling further.

Susan released Lucy and traded wary side-glances with Peter as he stood up to help Lucy reach for her things on the compartments above her seat. As such, Susan was the only one to see a single tear trace its way down Edmund's cheek as the car rattled around them.

* * *

 _Narnia_

 _18_ _th_ _of Frostmoon, Year 1004_

 _Cair Paravel_

Sir Peridan glanced sadly up at the lone figure standing firmly at the Cair's western battlements as he spoke softly with Sir Giles Fox and the Gentle Queen in the Northern Garden Pavilion.

Susan followed his gaze and sighed softly as she spotted her sister's fine pink skirts billowing like a sail in the crisp autumn winds. Since the storm over two weeks ago, the Valiant Queen had grown withdrawn and pensive, a fact that had caused worry to spread throughout the Cair and surrounding communities. In public appearances, it was hardly noticeable, and anyone who didn't know Lucy well wouldn't have been able to tell at all. But the youngest of the rulers had been less open and her smiles were belied by the growing darkness in her eyes, and every second of her spare time would be spent keeping silent sentinel over the western battlements, looking for any sign of their brothers.

"Peter was right of course to send Falcon Silverwing back to the Cair with news, but sometimes I wish he hadn't," Susan muttered unhappily, her violet skirt flowing to the ground as she rose, the two knights with her. "It's done nothing but make her worry more."

"The sooner the High King is able to return to the Cair with your royal brother, your Majesty, the better," Sir Giles agreed. "For both Narnia and your Majesties' sakes. I fear our Valiant Queen is not so particular about her own health as she is for your brothers."

"She'll feel better when Edmund is here, with us, and the cordial can finally be used to cure him," Susan replied, her gaze fixed on the slim figure.

It had been a matter of great discussion for the past weeks, accompanied by slamming doors, muted yells from the royal chambers, and a great deal of hidden tears as Lucy begged approval to race to the farthest corner of their kingdom to provide Edmund the help he needed, and any other time Susan would have been pushing her out the door- but Calormen had sent its Prime Ambassador to visit, and any perception of weakness could be taken advantage of, Susan feared. She was aware of her reputation across the kingdoms of being the least warlike of the four, with a preference for diplomacy. Though she was still the best shot in Narnia's armies, men did not fear her or respect her the way they did Lucy, who'd given a performance of her capability with the blade on the first day of the Ambassador's visit. While Susan was capable of defending the Cair and engaging in war, she wanted to avoid that and she had no doubt that if Lucy rode into the west while the Ambassador was still present, word would reach Tashbaan and her siblings would return to find the Cair under siege. As such, she'd dismissed each of her sister's petitions, despite the pain that stung her each time she did.

"I can only pray to Aslan that they get here soon," Susan murmured, leading her two advisors indoors.

* * *

The two queens were huddled in their private parlor, enduring an awkward silence as they worked at their separate desks. The tension between the two had been building since Susan had denied Lucy her request to ride out and meet their brothers on the way back from the battle. Susan was well-known for being the least warlike of the siblings and with the shifty-eyed Calormen Ambassador visiting so soon after Edmund's expedition to Calormen, Susan felt safer with her sister at her side. Lucy felt the same, not trusting the man who'd been slinking through their palace the past weeks, but she was also chafing at her helplessness, especially since the last message from the army had informed them that Edmund had yet to regain consciousness from his injuries and that the healers were getting worried. As such, the younger queen was torn between which of her siblings to stay with, and Susan's outright refusal to let her go to their brothers brought an equal amount of frustration at the situation and relief that it wasn't her choice to make.

Lucy was drawn out of her musing by a loud cry that reached their window on the chilly draft of evening air. Glancing at the window, her eyes widened at the column of torches approaching the walls and the cheers of the guards on the parapets. Trading an anxious glance with Susan, the two queens jumped to their feet, Lucy grabbing at her cordial as they fairly flew out of the room.

The queens cleared a path through the busy hallways of the Cair, laughing and sobbing simultaneously with tears shining in their eyes as relief and worry warred within them. They were nearly out of breath five levels down, until a Palomino mare by the name of Fleur offered to carry them the rest of the way.

A small crowd followed the queens out onto the fairgrounds before the Cair where the column of bobbing lights were slowing to a stop. Susan's keen eyesight picked out Oreius immediately and directed Fleur toward the Centaur General. Lucy's eyes met Oreius' and she begged silently for information about her brothers, her stomach dropping as Oreius' gaze dropped from hers. Barely registering Fleur slowing to a stop or Susan's harried thanks to the Horse, Lucy dismounted, sprinting past Oreius as the soldiers cleared a path to the center of the column.

By common practice, the injured were always in the centermost part of the army when they moved so that the wounded would be more protected by their comrades, and less of a liability in case of an ambush. It was both practical and demonstrated the loyalty and camaraderie within the Narnian armies, and it had been a tactical point that Lucy, as both healer and shield-maiden, had greatly appreciated in the past. But all she could think of now was how much more ground it meant she needed to cover before she could reach Edmund's side.

"Lucy! Over here!"

Lucy followed the sound of Peter's voice, pushing the last few meters as she caught sight of Peter. The young queen collapsed to her knees as she reached the stretcher that Edmund was laid on, fighting back the strained sobs that had risen in her throat at the sight of Edmund's wounds.

Most of them- the multiple lacerations and bruises that were commonplace after a battle- looked worse than they actually were, she knew. They were unpleasant at best, painful at worse, but unavoidable and these were usually the least life-threatening despite their appearance, so Lucy's eyes skirted over most of these, instead fixing her gaze on the bandages wrapped around Edmund's torso. Her eyes rose briefly to meet Peter's in an unspoken question.

"Broken," Peter murmured, voice strained. Lucy quickly looked him over, reassured by the lack of wounds her older brother seemed to have sustained. His hands were gripping Edmund's right, and she nodded at him shortly before slipping into 'healer mode,' distancing herself from the situation as she continued her examination. The heat emanating from Edmund's skin was troubling, especially given the chill of the Autumn night air, and he shivered under her touch. Her gaze narrowed as she glanced at the extensive bandaging on her brother's forearms, already with spots of blood showing through. There were several deep lacerations that appeared to have needed stitches, making Lucy wince, and some of the darker bruises would merit further attention, along with a cast on his left leg, which Lucy treated to careful examination.

"Fool actually walked on that, you know," Peter muttered unhappily, his hand brushing through Edmund's hair. Lucy swore under her breath, unknowingly eliciting a raised eyebrow from a hovering Susan. "If he wasn't already injured, he would be soon," she muttered darkly before she looked up at Peter. "And you?" she demanded. Peter waved her off. "Bruises and cuts, nothing more." He promised, before his gaze returned to the injured king "He also hasn't woken yet- not once. We managed to get some thin broth and water into him, but he's remained unresponsive, and we can't for the life of us figure out why."

Lucy scowled. "Well, it definitely merits the cordial," she announced as she finished probing her brother's body and reached for the diamond bottle at her side. There was a soft sigh of relief from her siblings -and the eavesdropping soldiers around them- as she produced the Fire-Flower Cordial from her belt and unplugged the golden stopper.

The three of them and all of their subjects within the vicinity held their breath as a small drop of the scarlet liquid dripped into Edmund's mouth. There was a brief pause where no-one moved, until the cordial began to take effect. Lucy breathed a sigh of relief as the heat emanating from the king faded underneath her touch, and his cuts began to close and heal on their own. Color returned to his skin, blood rushing to his cheeks and chasing away the pasty pale color that had previously inhabited them, and Lucy smiled grimly as the telltale sharp intake of breath marked the healing of his broken bones.

Cheering erupted across the camp as word spread by word of mouth, the trumpets sounding and the roars of the Beasts sending the air ringing. Peter slumped against his brother's cot, tears tracing their way down his face while Susan fell to her knees, pressing a limp hand to her lips as she thanked Aslan for Edmund's life. But Lucy blocked it all out, her eyes fixed on Edmund's unresponsive features. Dread rose in her veins as a minute passed, then two, and the raucous cheering faded into a background murmur and still she was stiffly watching Edmund's face, colored and healthy but still as death. Heart racing, she pinched his arm and slapped the back of his hand, desperate for a response, a sign, _anything._

"Lucy?" The young queen looked up to see Peter looking at her worriedly. Susan had stopped praying, horror rising in her eyes as she realized what Lucy had been doing. "What's wrong?"

"He's not waking up," Lucy whispered, disbelief coloring her tone. "He's not waking up."

* * *

 _See_ _ **"Into the West"**_ _and_ _ **"They Also Serve"**_ _by elecktrum_

 _ **Author's Notes:** I know, I'm a horrible human being. Please review! In regards to the next update, to quote Aslan: "I call all times soon." Hahahaha until next time, folks._

 _-M_


	3. Chapter 2: More Than It Seems

_**Notes from the Author:**_ _I LIVEEEEEE! Hello everyone!_

 _Yes, I know. I'm a horrible person for not updating. There are a million valid reasons as to why but none are proper excuses, so do forgive me. But at least I finally updated. There appears to be some malfunction with my wardrobe, it never does deliver me to Narnia as much as it ought to. But I hope you enjoy this chapter._

 _ **Replies to Reviews**_

 _ **Alicia Olivia Mirza:**_ _Thank you ever so much. I hope to._

 _ **AlphaGuardianDelCieloWW**_ _: I'm glad that you enjoyed it, I hope you enjoy this new one as much as you did._

 _ **FlyAway98**_ _: Your English is remarkably impressive for not being your native language. I was honestly worried that I'd overdo Peter's personal angst-fest. I hope you'll enjoy this twist. ;)_

 _ **CoffeeRanger**_ _: You're right that something (or someone, wink wink) is wrong with Edmund. But I plan to play with darling Edmund for awhile yet, so things might not be as straightforward as fix-it time travels tend to be. Because where's the fun in that?_

 _ **Guest (ChecktheGate):**_ _I'm so sorry I haven't updated in SO long! I hope you're still excited for this story, because I am, even if it's a lot more complicated than I originally planned for it to be._

 _ **Dee474**_ _: Thank you very much. I hope you enjoy._

 _ **Luna Space**_ _: Thank you! As for the soon, hehe. Sorry._

 _ **Guests (Narniagirl and narniagirl)**_ _: I hope you enjoy this! Don't worry, I never plan to abandon this._

 _ **Guest (Aslanknows**_ _): As it happens, Senior year of high school was a bit more busy than I anticipated. Summer's given me the chance to plan more properly thankfully, so fingers crossed I won't take so long to update._

 _ **Ohlivia.smith** : Thank you very much. The different timelines are sometimes difficult to deal with, but well worth it in the end, I feel._

 _ **JustValiant1717**_ _: Thank you very much, I'm so glad you enjoy this._

 _ **Bookfangirl2002**_ _: Updated! Haha, sorry it's been awhile._

 _ **Guest (Aslan)**_ _: In your own words, dear Aslan, I call all times soon... but I am sorry for taking so long._

 _ **Guest (WIMPYWAFFLES**_ _): My schedule has finally cleared up, no apologies necessary. I really am horrible at updating._

 _ **Guest (ChristmasWish):**_ _Er, how do you feel about Christmas in June?_

 _ **Guest (Nekm573)**_ _: I'm afraid cliffhangers are my specialty. As for new years, Elecktrum (and in turn, me) regards May as the Narnian new year, so I'm just a month late, haha._

 _ **.Jynger**_ _: Here it is!_

 _ **Do Not Refrigerate**_ _: I hope you enjoy this chapter then!_

 _ **TheMightyTrivia**_ _: I'm glad you liked it!_

 _ **General Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia franchise, nor most of the characters mentioned/featured in this story, with exceptions of Lhiere, Falcon Silverwing, Falcon Spotfletch, the Mare Fleur, and Centauress Avante of Shathin Grove. Many thanks to Professor Lewis for the beautiful world he created, and the lovely elecktrum who generously allowed me the use of her characters for my stories. The plot of the story, however, is my intellectual property._

* * *

THERE, AND BACK AGAIN

CHAPTER 2 - MORE THAN IT SEEMS

 _Narnia_

 _11th Sunbend, 1000_

 _The Plains of Beruna_

THE SUN WAS NEAR THE APEX OF ITS CLIMB WHEN Lucy finally finished healing all the wounded Narnians scattered across the fields of Beruna, which was apparently the name of the place where Peter and Edmund and their armies had fought the Witch. Her breath caught in her throat as her last patient- a magnificent centauress with golden-brown flanks and shiny gold curls pulled back into a braid- rose to her full height and bowed at the waist. "My thanks, o princess," she said in the solemn way of her kind.

"You're welcome" Lucy said brightly, beaming. "What's your name?"

"Avante of the Shathin Grove, princess."

"Well, I think you're very beautiful, Avante. And your name's very pretty too," Lucy grinned, delighted by the smile on her new friend's face. "And please, call me Lucy!"

"Very well, Princess Lucy."

Lucy giggled at the centauress's insistence on formality, (she was beginning to learn it was rather typical of the race in general) and curtseyed as well as she was able before running to where Aslan was waiting for her, on a small rocky outcrop a short distance away.

"Well done, dear one," Aslan greeted her as she drew closer to Him. Lucy beamed at him, absently adjusting the diamond bottle at her waist. "You use your gift wisely and well."

"It's so nice, Aslan! I was able to help so _many_ people- well, Narnians, I suppose they can't be called people in the strictest sense and they're all very nice and lovely and- oh!" The young queen-to-be stopped short as she spotted a group of warriors being led by the newly-revived General Orieus. Even from a fair distance away, she could see that they were very solemn, and several of them were bearing litters covered with white sheets.

"Did I miss anyone? I should go help them-" A large paw cut across her path, and Lucy turned to Aslan, confused. "What's wrong, Aslan? I can help, I still have so much cordial left, see?"

Lucy felt a bad feeling build up in her chest as Aslan shook his head. "No, Lucy," he said gently. "Even with your gift, there are those who have fallen beyond our help. They have gone Beyond- to be with my Father in His country, and only those who are no longer of the Living may enter."

"Your Father? But-" A limp paw fell out from under the white fabric, and Lucy covered her mouth, eyes filling. "He's dead?"

"To us, yes," Aslan said somberly, drawing her nearer to him. "But there is much at work beyond your understanding, daughter, and Death is not as cruel as she may seem."

"When will I understand, then?" Lucy sniffled, rubbing a hand across her eyes. "When you're older," Aslan said, nudging her, and she couldn't help but feel better as he allowed her to bury her face in his mane. "But that's what all the grown-ups say, no matter how much older I get."

Aslan chuckled, and Lucy laughed a little, because it _was_ pretty funny. "Time will make you wise, and a day will come when you will long not to know all that you do. But that day is not yet upon us, and there is much to be done," Aslan said, smiling. "And now," Aslan said briskly. "Your siblings are waiting for you."

"They are? Where?" Lucy breathed in deeply, willing away her tears and glancing around. Aslan smiled at her. "Ride me once more, Daughter of Eve," he said, "and I shall bear you to them."

* * *

Lucy hadn't quite realized how far their camp was from the battle-grounds. Riding Aslan this time 'round was a much more pleasant experience, as though he still moved swiftly, it was not enough that her surroundings were reduced to a blur of earth and sky, and she was able to appreciate the beauty of the vast grassy expanse. "It's a shame, really," she murmured as she buried herself deeper in Aslan's mane.

"What is?" Aslan asked, and she shrugged, glancing around at the rocky plains. "It's just- this place is very, very beautiful when you look at it properly," she said, "but I expect that everyone will remember it best for the battle, 'cause that's what grown-ups did back in my world. But without all the blood and bodies, this field could be filled with flowers or trees and perfect for picnics and parties and such."

"It is often the way of the world to see the worst that was, instead of the best it may be," Aslan said, "but I expect that that's why there are those like you, Lucy, to remind others to see the good in things."

"I suppose," Lucy said reluctantly. "But people don't really listen to me when I talk."

"In England, perhaps," Aslan replied evenly, startling Lucy, who'd all but resigned herself to calling That Other Place as War Drobe in Spare Oom for the sake of convenience after Mrs. Beaver had set about talking and gossiping with the other Beasts, "But I believe you'll find that there is none, or at least very few, here in Narnia who will not listen when you speak, dear one. Least of whom are your siblings, I believe."

"Lucy!"

Lucy looked up to see her siblings sitting under the shade of a very large tree, just outside of the camp-grounds. The boys had shed their armour into a glistening pile nearby, dressed in white undershirts and brown trousers, and Susan had tied her hair back into a haphazard pony tail, probably due to the heat. But all three were smiling and grinning at her, and Lucy felt her heart swell at the expressions on their faces. Jumping from Aslan's broad back, she ran the rest of the distance to tumble into a heap on the ground with her siblings, laughing as Edmund pinned her in a hug and was promptly attacked by Peter for 'not sharing'. The horrors of the battlefield hadn't quite departed her mind yet, but she was young, and as such, easily recovered from such darkness in the face of the light that was the newfound closeness between her siblings and the love of Aslan.

With small, breathy giggles, the four siblings eventually collapsed together on the ground in a mash of limbs several minutes later. Lucy found herself splayed on the legs of Edmund, whose head was comfortably pillowed on Peter's stomach. Peter had had the good fortune of falling against the tree, so he was somewhat upright, and Susan, who'd rolled a fair distance away after Peter had carried her on his back and spun in so many circles that they'd gotten dizzy, got up and removed a few stray flowers and leaves from her hair as she tucked herself against Peter's side. Lucy grinned playfully and raised her legs to rest on top of her older sister's, so that they formed a sort of lopsided rectangle. Lucy sighed contentedly as she snuggled closer into her siblings, relishing the close contact between them, only to jerk back in shock. "I say, Ed, you're freezing cold! Are you alright?"

One might be able to forgive the elder Pevensies their rather... _extreme,_ reactions, to Lucy's concerned inquiry. With time, the four siblings would discover that Edmund had become prone to a lower body temperature than normal, possibly as a remnant of the Witch's magic (a problem which was remedied a year and a half hence, involving a rather perilous journey west on Peter's part, and a most trying period spent in extended company with Dogs on Edmund's, though that is another story altogether*.) For now, however, both Susan and Peter reacted with an immediate examination of Edmund's body.

"I'm fine!" Edmund protested vainly, attempting to fend off Peter's roaming hands. "Slightly chilled, tired and sore, perhaps, but fine." Susan, having come to the conclusion that her baby brother was not in danger of imminent death as she had feared, conceded, though Peter did not. Lucy giggled as Edmund gave up, going limp in his brother's hold, and outright grinned when Peter, apparently reassured of Edmund's relative well-being, smirked mischievously and his probing went from exploratory to a more devious purpose at his brother's sides and belly. Edmund's eyes widened with alarm as he involuntarily began to shake with laughter.

"N-no! Peter! St-stop i-heeheehee, hahahahhaha! Lucy! NO!" Lucy had joined in with a vengeance, pulling off one of her brother's boots and attacking the soles of his feet. Even Susan contributed, holding Edmund down at his shoulders and lightly brushing at his neck and behind his ears.

"No! Hahahahahaha- STOP! I'm begging yo-" Edmund coughed, and Lucy reluctantly left off her assault on her brother's feet as Peter rolled his eyes and leaned back against the tree. However, unease began to build in her belly when Edmund's coughing fit only increased in intensity and without pause, his eyes beginning to grow wide with panic. "Peter! Peter, he can't breathe!"

Immediately, Peter raised his brother up, supporting him as Susan gave firm, sharp slaps against his back to help him clear his lungs. Lucy, frantic and helpless in her worry, grasped Edmund's hands in her own as hard as she could until the fit passed and Edmund slumped back once more into his brother's hold.

"Sorry, everyone," Edmund wheezed. "Seems my lungs aren't in as fine a shape as we thought," and everyone winced at the memory of Edmund hacking up blood, wheezing and gasping. Lucy frowned and pulled out her bottle of cordial. "I don't understand," she said plaintively. "Father Christmas said this could cure _anything."_

"So it can," a warm voice said, and Lucy and her siblings looked over, having quite forgotten that Aslan had been there all this time. "Which you have seen many times over now, Lucy. But all magic has a price, and the price of such quick and miraculous healing takes its toll on the body as well. Even with the fire-flower juice, one cannot recover from a fatal wound so simply. As with all things, your brother will need time and rest to properly recover."

Lucy pursed her lips and frowned down at the diamond bottle cradled in her fingers. Until now, she'd thought of it as a sort of cure-all, having watched dozens of wounded soldiers, her own brother included, come back from wounds that should have left them dead. But it seemed it wasn't as simple as all that after all.

"Well then," Susan said briskly, ever-practical. "We should bring him to your tent then, Peter, and make sure he gets that rest without any complaint." The last part was directed firmly to Edmund, who blushed and ducked his head. He'd had a reputation for being even more stubborn and beastly (if that were possible) when he was sick back in England, and had often stirred the Pevensie household into disorder trying to get out of bed rest. Lucy giggled, patting his hand sympathetically as Susan stood, tugging on Peter's arm as she did so. With a Very Dramatic Sigh, Peter stood as well, stretching as he went, while Lucy bounced up much more willingly. She grinned and giggled down at Edmund, who had flopped backwards on the grass at the loss of his pillow, only to squawk in protest as Peter suddenly swung the younger boy into his arms. "No! Peter, stop! Put me down!"

Lucy dissolved into helpless giggles as Peter noted and steadfastly ignored his brother's protests and marched into camp, Susan and Lucy following after with Aslan. Many a Narnian turned to smile and stare as the little party entered the camp, the younger of their princes flailing about in his older brother's arms, while the princesses leaned on one another for support as they tittered and guffawed, and Aslan Himself bringing up the rear with an indulgent smile. It was only in the middle of the camp that Peter relented and allowed Edmund to march the rest of the way on his own two feet (which Lucy saw very little point in, seeing as Narnians were excellent at spreading gossip, and as a result, majority of the army had seen their antics through the first half of the camp). Nonetheless, Lucy skipped forward to clasp her hand in Edmund's, beaming at him as she did so, while Peter wrapped his arms around his brother's shoulders, and Susan playfully ruffled his hair. Lucy felt her heart ache at the confused but pleased looks her brother gave at these touches of affection and resolved to give Edmund more of them. She could not remember much of what Edmund had been like before he'd had to come home from boarding school, but considering her conversation with Aslan earlier, she saw no reason why they could not become closer and have a more affectionate relationship, rather than dwelling on his beastliness and all the results of it. Enough that Edmund had learned his lesson and become the better for it, and she seemed well on the way to regaining a compassionate and kind older brother.

Between the three of them, they managed to conjure a very comfortable nest of sorts using the mats and carpets and rugs and pillows and blankets on the floor of the boys' tent, Lucy having pointed out it would do a lot more good to let Edmund rest on a stable, steady position rather than the swinging, motion-prone hammocks. Edmund good-naturedly allowed his siblings to wrestle him into the large, plush nest, where he was settled and fussed over and subsequently threatened to stay in bed _or else._ Lucy found it highly likely that Peter and Susan would have stuck around to ensure Edmund did, or else carry out their threats, had they not been dragged away almost immediately after; Susan by an imposing Centauress Captain by the name of Xati to help organize the transfer of tents, equipment, and personnel to their next campsite (apparently they were to pack up and move as soon as possible, so as to situate the four siblings in Cair Paravel within the month). Peter, on the other hand, had been called on by Aslan and General Oreius, who'd come to escort the eldest Pevensie to the gathering Council, to discuss the plans for the weeks ahead. Neither had wanted to leave, but Lucy had seen the rather harried, overwhelmed look in Edmund's eyes and shooed them off as best as she was able.

"He's not _really_ injured anymore, and I can watch over him, promise," she'd pointed out with a pretty smile and a pat on the knife riding on her hip, to which bother her older siblings had exchanged indulgent grins. "I'm more than capable of getting him to stay in his nest, and if he argues, I can ask Mr. Beaver to sit on him." Lucy was glad to note that General Oreius and Aslan seemed terribly amused (if approving) of the idea. _"Go._ Shoo!" She grinned as finally, both Peter and Susan acquiesced with very little grace, following their respective Centaur escorts out of the tent, though Aslan stayed behind.

Lucy's bright smile faded when she turned back to see the mildly sick expression on Edmund's face. "Are you alright, Ed?" She asked worriedly, sitting at the edge of the pillow pile to lay her hand against her brother's forehead. Edmund smiled at her weakly. "Fine- at least, fine in the way you're thinking of," he murmured, taking Lucy's hand and clasping it gently. Lucy frowned in consternation. "What do you mean by that? What's wrong?" She demanded, frustrated.

Edmund looked down, breathing in deeply. "I- I need to apologize." Lucy sat back on her heels in slight shock. She knew there were a lot of things she'd have to get used to with this new Edmund, and apologies, it seemed, would be among them, along with touches of affection and openly displayed emotions. She watched as Edmund seemed to get his nerve together, and looked up at the golden gaze of Aslan.

"I'm- I'm _sorry,_ Aslan," he said, tears filling his eyes as he looked up at the Lion. "I'm not really sure what happened, all I know's that you were suddenly _gone,_ and all anyone would tell me is that a terrible price had to be paid, and that that's what you were doing, and I'm _so sorry_ because you, of all people should never had to go to Jadis," and Lucy felt her heart ache for the lost look in her brother's eyes, "for someone like me. And Lucy-"

Lucy felt even more at a loss when her brother's devastated, beseeching stare turned to her. "I just realized- I hadn't apologized to you for lying, back in the Professor's House. I was a beast, and a liar, and a- a _traitor,"_ he muttered, flinching. "I know I was so, so horrible to you then, always acting so high-and-mighty and full of myself. Can you ever forgive me?"

Lucy felt her breath catch in her throat, speechless. Edmund's face crumpled into resigned despair for all of two seconds before Lucy all but threw herself into her brother's arms, squeezing him as tight as she was able.

"I- I don't understand," Edmund mumbled as tears dripped down his cheeks and into Lucy's golden-brown hair. "How can you forgive me this easily?"

"Because I _love_ you, Edmund," Lucy mumbled, noting that there was a noticeably large wet patch in her brother's tunic. "And that should be reason enough for anyone!"

"The same goes for myself, Dear Edmund." Lucy looked up into Aslan's face as the Great Lion smiled down at them. "It was for Love that I forgave you, and for Love that I went willingly to the Witch, to pay the price required."

"But _why?"_ Edmund moaned. "I betrayed you! All of you," he added bitterly to Lucy, who simply hugged him back. "I don't deserve your love, or forgiveness."

"You will find, Edmund, that Love often has little to do with how much you deserve it," Aslan said warmly, coming over to the siblings. Lucy watched with no small sense of awe as he lowered His great head down so as to be on eye level with them, and nudged Edmund gently with his nose. "And given the choice, I would gladly give my Life for you again."

The two siblings were speechless as Aslan raised his head and walked out of the tent again, presumably to rejoin Peter and Oreius wherever the council was supposed to take place. Lucy stared after him, a warm feeling she'd come to associate with the Lion spreading in her chest, and smiled. She wasn't quite sure of what would happen next, (she was rather hoping Peter and Susan would forget about going back to the Professor's for a while) but she couldn't help but feel that whatever came next, it would be wonderful.

It was with this childish certainty that Lucy set about arranging herself more comfortably on her brother's nest of sorts, making it more spacious and removing the exagerrated amount of blankets that Peter and Susan had insisted on (honestly, in this heat?), allowing Edmund the silence to think to himself.

"I still don't understand," Edmund finally said, hoarsely. "I don't understand how I can have been forgiven so easily- by you _and_ Aslan. I don't understand how love's possibly great enough to cover all this."

Lucy paused and sat back on her heels. She understood, to an extent, what Edmund was saying, primarily because she wasn't quite sure how love worked herself, simply that it was, and that it was something to be given and shared freely, and that it didn't quite run out like most things did. At the same time, she didn't understand why Edmund felt undeserving of that love, when he was their brother and the fact that they loved him should've been a given. And as for Aslan loving him, Lucy felt that it was much like a gift one received from a distant, very rich relative who you didn't quite know but apparently knew you; to be accepted graciously and without question, even if it felt a bit too much. "I think," she said eventually, "that Love is not something that should be reasonable, otherwise it wouldn't be love. And I think that you're absolutely horrid for not accepting that we love you, and that Aslan loves you, and that we believe in you, even if you don't quite believe in yourself at the moment."

"How can I?" Edmund asked bitterly. " _Why_ should I, when I nearly got you all killed for a box of _sweeties."_

Lucy didn't quite have an answer to that, so she turned to look Edmund in the eyes. "Do you believe me?"

"Yes." Lucy felt her heart soar at her brother's declaration, without hesitance or question. And many years in the future, it was that same belief that would carry the two siblings through a much darker time, in a much darker Narnia, the absolute faith Edmund held in Lucy as his absolution for a lie told in a dark bedroom that broke his sister's heart. But for now, Lucy simply smiled and cuddled up to her older brother, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso as he ran his fingers through her hair.

"Then believe that I believe in you."

* * *

 _England_

 _September 20, 1940_

 _The London Railway Lines_

Under the circumstances, Edmund feels he hardly deserves the suspicious looks being sent his way by his older brother and sister.

The farewell to his mother at the station was much more emotional this time 'round, largely due to Edmund no longer being a beastly, selfish brat. He'd accepted his mother's hug with much grace (and a few tears) and had given an apology and love in return. His mother had been startled, Lucy a pleasant mix of puzzled and pleased, Susan suspicious, and Peter either unaware or uncaring (knowing his brother, likely the former. Susan was not the only one to notice his brother's preoccupation with the drafted soldiers.)

It had almost been an hour since they'd boarded the train, and about three or four since he'd woken up in this nightmare, or whatever it was. It still felt like a dream, and part of him expected to wake up at any moment. But rarely were dreams this vivid and lifelike, and with all the chaos and uncertainty and unpleasant reminders of how he'd once been, Edmund felt that the best thing he could do was to behave himself as he knew himself to be; by the gift of Aslan, by election, prescription, and by conquest, the Just King of Narnia under her chosen High King, Duke of Lantern Waste, Count of the Western March, and Knight of the Noble Order of the Table.

And as Edmund the Just was horrible at asking for help and admitting he was in pain, so Edmund would not admit to his Very Suspicious older siblings that he was currently suffering a migraine of epic proportions and his head was killing him.

' _Why couldn't I have remembered how Utterly Dull this trip would be?'_ Edmund grumbled to himself as he curled up miserably in the corner of the compartment. The children who'd shared the space with them had gone off about thirty minutes prior, and he'd since transferred to the opposite bench, though Peter still sat as far away as he could from him. The distance was painful, to say the least, as Edmund had forgotten just how estranged he'd been from his brother before his almost-death had set their priorities straight. Grimacing as his headache spiked again, he curled even more into himself and closed his eyes. The day's emotions wore heavily on him, and he was tired- physically and mentally. Hopefully, a bit of shut-eye could cure the relentless pounding in his head.

* * *

In Edmund's dream, he was in a vast, woody area.

The young king glanced about him. When asked afterwards, he often said it was the kind of place where you felt as if you'd known it your whole life, never mind that you'd never been there. In a way, it reminded him of his beloved Western Woods, save that it felt... older. Stranger. More hostile, as if it recognised that he did not belong there. Magic hung heavy in the air around him, neither benevolent nor malevolent, but old and deep, filling every space, pushing and pulling in the stagnant atmosphere. The trees that surrounded him were much larger in girth than even the oldest trees in the Western Woods, which had stood for thousands of years, and no sky was visible through the thick green foliage, though no shadow was cast on the grassy floor. The air was warm, though not unbearably so, and the light seemed to emanate from the woods themselves, green and ethereal. And before him, as still and clear as glass, was a small pool.

A fair distance away was another pool, and beyond that, another, though there was something different about them, and Edmund knew (somehow) that if he tried to approach them, he would simply find himself back where he started. So rather than push himself to a pointless cause, he approached the pool directly in front of him.

At first, it seemed like a perfectly ordinary pool of water. It appeared to be very deep, and Edmund found that when he'd dipped his hand in it, it came back perfectly dry- a rather alarming discovery. In the same way Edmund knew he couldn't approach the other pools, he also knew that it would be a very big and dangerous mistake to try to drink from this one. And once he'd withdrawn his hand from the pool, he found that it almost immediately went back to its former stagnant state, the mirror-like surface reflecting the light above. Curiously, Edmund went to peer in at his reflection- only to stumble back in shock.

A look at his attire only confirmed what he'd seen in the mirror-water— he was dressed in his Narnian armour, bright red tabard with the rampant Lion stamped on it over shiny dwarf-smithed steel. His scabbard was empty and his helmet and shield absent, but besides that, he was outfitted as if he were set to run to battle. He was also his normal height- as tall as he'd been in Narnia, nearly the same as Peter already, with long, gangly arms and legs. It was comforting- and at the same time confusing, to see himself as he'd thought he never would again, but he also had no idea what to think of it.

"What in Aslan's name?" He murmured, looking down at himself and wishing for someone, _anyone_ really- Peter, his sisters, Aslan Himself- to be there with him.

"Who on earth is Aslan?"

Edmund looked up, startled by the sound of another human voice, only for his knees to give out underneath him.

Across the pond, a much shorter Edmund Pevensie, dressed in the scratchy, threadbare clothes he himself had been dressed in on the train, mirrored him almost exactly- sprawled out on the grassy woodland floor, face pale and eyes wide. "Who are you?" He demanded shakily, his voice angry. Edmund shook his head, shocked. "I said, WHO ARE YOU?!" Edmund-the-younger screamed.

" _KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!"_

* * *

Edmund gasped as his eyes open, nearly falling off the bench. Lucy yelped on the bench across him, and Peter half-rose into a fighting stance with a muffled swear their mother would have washed his mouth out for. A kind-looking old train conductor stood at the door to their compartment, and tipped his hat at Edmund and Lucy with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry to wake ye lad, missie," the old man said kindly, "but your stop will be rollin' round here in about half an hour- best the four of you get yourselves prepared."

Susan thanked the conductor as Peter calmed himself down from his near-fit, and Edmund tried to relax- only to wince as his headache spiked. He blanched as he recalled his dream- the Wood, and his younger self on the opposite side of the pool, screaming at him, terrified and angry-

"- _WHO ARE YOU?!"_

Edmund shook his head, trying not to make himself sick. He didn't know what happened, but it wouldn't do him any good now to lose it in front of his siblings. Especially now, he thought darkly as Lucy burst into a fit of tears.

"It _could_ be a lot worse, Lu," Peter was saying, trying to calm their younger sister down gently. _"How?"_ Lucy asked miserably. Edmund felt his heart sink at the despair in Lucy's voice and the angry and guilty glances that Peter and Susan traded.

"We're all still together, aren't we?" Edmund said, smiling weakly at his younger sister when she looked at him, surprised. His smile dropped when surprise turned to suspicion, and he reminded himself that things were different now, and there was no reason for Lucy to trust him, or believe in him. He curled himself into the corner, trying to make himself as small as possible, blanching as the migraine returned with a vengeance.

" _Who are you?! What are you doing here? No one wants you, get out!"_ A small voice, that Edmund realized was his own, began ringing in his eardrums, and Edmund tried not to sob at how true that was. He was a strange king in what might as well have been a strange new world, for how different it all was now, and there was no-one here who wanted him or loved him. All he could do was hope events would play out as they must so that he might return to the kingdom and land that had claimed him as its own.

That hope wasn't enough to stop a tear from escaping his eye.

* * *

 _Coombe Halt_

Lucy Pevensie was actually a very bright and observant young girl.

Her love of books had delighted her parents very much when she was younger, and the wild stories she could create with her imagination left many an aunt, uncle, distant relative, or old family friend applauding her obvious brilliance before. But as the war went on, people's approval turned towards grown-up, practical, helpful Susan, and she was all too often relegated to the corner, to be seen and fawned over, but not heard.

And so, she knew almost immediately that something was very, very wrong with the younger of her brothers.

Some of Lucy's favourite childhood memories were of time spent with Edmund. Edmund had been a caring and indulgent older brother, often making time for her stories and make-believe. He'd held her through thunder-storms and nightmares and cold winter nights when the wind would howl through the house, comforting in a way that Peter and Susan weren't. At first, she'd been thrilled when Edmund had come home from boarding school- too young to understand the consequences and effects of the action, and Edmund had simply seemed happy to see her. So it had continued for awhile, and Lucy had thought that she could keep Edmund cheerful and happy by herself. But Lucy had also been busy; with friends on their block and her own studies, and one day, she'd woken up to discover that she no longer recognized her brother. It was something she'd often thought on at first, whether or not she could have helped her older brother out somehow, by spending more time with him or something. But eventually, the guilty train of thought had been buried under the hurt she'd received from Edmund, and she'd allowed herself to forget just how much she'd loved spending time with her dark-haired brother.

But now, having made several important observations, namely that Coombe Halt looked to be a very quiet and peaceful place with no little girls to befriend as Mum had promised, that Mrs. Macready was not a very nice person and didn't seem to like children at all, that Peter and Susan had been trying to be grown-ups again and fighting, and therefore not likely to be very good company in the near future, and that Something had once again changed Edmund.

As for that last observation, Lucy had yet to determine whether the change was for the better or worse.

In any case, she had not missed the way Edmund's face had fallen when she'd looked at him suspiciously earlier, and with Peter and Susan continuing on the way they were, exchanging glances while trying (and failing) to hide it from her, and Mrs. Macready being very, very cross in the front of the cart, Lucy had decided that her best chance for a relatively pleasant ride would be to try and make amends with Edmund.

Edmund, for his part, had seemed surprised when she'd chosen to sit right beside him rather than Susan upon riding the cart, though he said nothing about it. Peter had seemed to want to protest, but Susan had simply tugged on him until he sat beside her, though he kept staring at the two of them as if they were aliens or something, which Lucy felt was rather rude of him, especially since she'd wanted the chance to talk to Edmund and try to figure out what was wrong. But the cart was a rather small affair, with neither the privacy nor opportunity Lucy desired for a _real_ apology (and at this point, Lucy wasn't very sure at all if she ought to be giving one just _yet_ ), so she settled instead for cuddling up to Edmund as much as she could. It would be a perfect test, she decided, for in her memories Edmund was very, very fond of cuddling, especially at night, and she was still very shaken from her dream earlier and could do with the comfort. Susan was far too grown-up to bother with, and Peter far too distracted.

Edmund had at first stiffened when she'd drawn nearer to him, and Lucy had begun to fear that she'd read the entire thing wrong, but then he'd relaxed and even (hesitantly) wrapped an arm around her and carded his fingers through her hair. Lucy beamed and relaxed more into the half-embrace, ignoring Peter and Susan's blatant stares. The two of them had been so surprised and hurt when they'd come home to a pensive Lucy, a worried mother, and a beastly Edmund, but Lucy was not blind, and knew about the nasty bullies who had sometimes followed Edmund home from school and insulted everyone in their family. They'd simply seen the result of it and not questioned the cause (as most grown-ups, Lucy felt, were wont to do) and had isolated Edmund even more, hurt and hurting. Lucy often felt that they'd forgotten that they were not the only ones who'd seemingly lost a brother, and that they'd done very little to try and get him back past the first few days they'd been home, when Peter had finally lost his temper.

Of course, the same could be said of Lucy herself, but she was determined to make a difference. She would take advantage of this mysterious change, whatever caused it. And with it, she would get their Edmund back.

"Look, Lucy," Edmund's soft voice whispered in her ear, startling her. Lucy looked up to see a grand old mansion appear as they crested the hilltop, surrounded by a wide, beautiful green lawn. At first, Lucy felt it looked rather large and scary, but then she saw the pretty colors the light made when it shone through the stained glass windows, and the small cricket post on the very large lawn, and how the odd queerness of the place only seemed to make it more inviting.

A billowing curtain drew her attention to a room on the second floor, where a white sheet was draped over a tall... something- probably a cabinet or closet, or a wardrobe. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she stared at it- it seemed rather familiar, and at the same time, not. As if it came from a dream.

' _Or a dream of a dream,'_ a small voice within whispered.

A cold chill ran down Lucy's spine, which was odd considering how bright and warm it was. She shivered briefly, noting that Mrs. Macready, Peter, and Susan hadn't seemed to feel it, and glanced behind her to see if Edmund had noticed it too- and froze.

Something had changed Edmund when he'd woken up that morning, but Lucy hadn't been able to figure out what. But now, as they broke free from the shadows of the tall trees surrounding the path and onto the verdant lawn with the sunlight shining down on them, she _saw._

He held his head just a little higher, and his expression was just a little prouder, but not in a way that would make one feel as if he were a self-important, stuck-up prat. His back straightened, and he seemed more sure, more confident of himself. And his face- there was a brightness in it, queer but not completely out of place, a subtle joy and at the same time, a humility she'd never known her brother to possess. And in his eyes there was sadness- so much that Lucy felt she wanted to cry and weep, tempered by a spark of- _something._ Lucy remembered meeting a missionary once, who'd been friends with her parents, and there was a similarity in the man's bearing to the one Edmund carried now.

"All right, children, down from the cart, now!" Mrs. Macready suddenly rapped, and Lucy frowned, disappointed, as the spell broke and Edmund once more transformed before her eyes. His head and shoulders dropped, as if a burden had suddenly been placed on them, and the brightness in his face faded. The _something_ in his eyes was still there, but the sorrow in them seemed to overwhelm it, and Lucy felt she would very much like for the moment to return, just to see Edmund like that again.

* * *

 _Narnia_

 _20th Frostmoon, 1004_

 _Cair Paravel_

It'd been two days, and Edmund still hadn't woken up.

Peter glanced down sadly at the small figure of his baby sister, curled up at Edmund's side. Of them all, Lucy had been nigh-inconsolable, only leaving for food and to go to the bathroom before returning to Edmund's side. Of course, neither Susan nor Peter himself were that much better- the two of them maintained the court and juggled responsibilities, returning every chance they had to the boys' bedchamber. Susan would be here now, had Miniver and Lhiere not conjured up yet another box of forbidden ancient magic scrolls to read through.

They'd come to the immediate conclusion that whatever was keeping Edmund from waking up involved a magic of a sort. The debacle with the wand and the journey to the West and the Tree of Protection* had made it all too clear to them that there were some things that the cordial, amazing as it was, could not fix everything- especially when combated with another form of magic. The magic, as Aslan had said all those years ago, could not help but work, and it seemed that was what was happening again now. Physically, Edmund was fine- Susan had even joked (tearfully) that he was probably much healthier than when he was awake, since they could make sure he wasn't getting into all sorts of scrapes again. But regardless of physical health, he was not waking up.

Peter shook his head as he fell into a chair next to the bed, on the side opposite where Lucy had lain down beside Edmund. He smiled weakly as he looked over his brother, brushing back the dark bangs from his face. It was getting long again, he thought fondly, reminiscing on the cheerful disdain with which Edmund regarded everything related to personal grooming. Lucy murmured in her sleep, shuffling closer to her comatose brother and flinging an arm over his torso. Peter felt his smile falter when Edmund didn't respond in kind.

Many things had changed since the Battle of Beruna, but among the most important for Peter was the renewed relationships Edmund had formed with his family. The evening of the day of the battle, after he and Susan had returned to the boys' tent from their responsibilities, the two of them had been surprised (and secretly thrilled) to see their brother and sister sprawled on the pile of pillows and blankets, intertwined in one another. It had taken less than a minute for the two to join them, and Peter largely suspects that it was the only reason they'd been left alone until the last dinner bell.

Another important change that had come from the battle was the renewed protectiveness that Peter felt for Edmund. He'd always been the overbearing big brother of the family, ever since Susan, and while he was and would always be fiercely protective of the girls, the girls hadn't nearly died right in front of him.

Several times.

" _Oh shove off, you overprotective git,"_ Edmund moaned in his head. Peter chuckled dryly- it was almost as if he weren't unconscious on the bed before him. Aslan knew how many times Edmund had complained- verbally and as loudly as possible- about the overprotective mother hennish attitude that Peter maintained around him. Peter felt he could be forgiven, considering how many times Edmund had gotten into life-threatening troubles and Peter had had to pull him out, and besides; Ed could hardly talk when he was just as bad with Peter himself.

The problem, Peter knew, was just how close to home this was hitting. It hadn't even been a year since Edmund's thrice-cursed trip to Tashbaan, and his brother hadn't quite recovered his equilibrium yet, hiding from shadows and as prone to bad memories regarding extreme heat as well as extreme cold. And whats more- the parallels to this situation and the first time Peter had had to watch Edmund almost die in front of him were awfully striking.

A flash of light in the corner of his eye, a witch striking his brother down, Edmund falling bonelessly on the ground, gasping for breath.

"You really can't last long without chasing after trouble, can't you?" Peter asked rhetorically with a dry look at his brother's prone body. He could just imagine Edmund's indignant retort: _"I don't go chasing after trouble, trouble chases after_ me!"

It was a concept Peter had no problem with accepting, along with anyone else who knew Edmund- really knew him. "The Cair's awfully quiet without you know- and nobody's happy about it. We could use your brand of humor to brighten the place right now."

"You've left Lhiere awfully guilty- I've heard her story and she honestly made the right call, you didn't need that werewulf on your back as well. But she feels guilty nonetheless, Susan had to order her to sleep last night when she nearly suffered a concussion via a bookshelf almost collapsing on her. And Oreius- he's worse. Says he shouldn't have approved your battle plan."

" _Well that's bloody stupid, it was a good plan with calculated risks!"_ The Edmund in his head protested.

"The risk never should have resulted in this," Peter replied bitterly, to silence. He felt the guilt well up in his chest- Oreius wasn't the only one who felt he should've vetoed the plan, after all. Never mind that it was a good idea and the best viable strategy they'd had at the time, Peter would have given anything to go back in time and say no if it meant that Edmund wasn't like this- still and unmoving in his bed because of a magic they knew nothing about.

" _It was my choice, Pete. We had to stop the rampage. This is a small price to pay for all the Narnian lives we've saved. It was my duty as King to lay my life down for Narnia,"_ Edmund's voice whispered.

"I know that, but it's my duty as your King and brother to protect you!" Peter screamed.

"Peter?"

Peter's head shot up to meet the confused, startled gaze of his baby sister. Her hair was mussed from sleep, and her eyes were bloodshot and red. Peter groaned, rubbing his face.

"Sorry, Lu, I wasn't thinking. Go back to sleep, everything's fine."

' _Not really,'_ his mind whispered traitorously.

Lucy gave him a Look and climbed out of bed, ignoring Peter's protests. She sat on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling close, and Peter reciprocated the actions out of habit. "It's okay to feel bad, Peter," she whispered. "I feel bad too."

Peter felt tears drip involuntarily down his cheeks, even as his tunic got suspiciously damp. "Where's Aslan, Lucy?" He whispered. "Why isn't He here? He'd know what this is, He'd tell us what to do to fix this."

"I don't know, Peter," Lucy sobbed softly, fisting the fabric of his tunic. "I don't know."

* * *

 _ **Notes from the Author:**_

 _*See Into the West and They Also Serve by elecktrum._

 _Now, as for notes. There are many references in this work to the works of elecktrum. Because I'm in love with the world elecktrum has created for Narnia, I try to fit this in with her timeline as much as I can, and there are many references to events and characters from her books. So quite a bit of credit is due to her as well._

 _Lucy's character took up quite a bit of space in this chapter, because in writing her, I found that she is quite possibly the most complex character of the four. She is mature for her age, and at the same time, retains her childlikeness and innocence, so it was difficult to achieve that combination and I can only hope I managed it._

 _The title of the chapter is inspired by the song of the same name by Kutless on the album Songs Inspired by the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe._

 _Thank you to all the wonderful readers and reviewers and followers and favorite(r)s(?) for bearing with me and my lack of a proper schedule. I hope you continue to enjoy this work. Feel free to review, comment, and critique._

 _-M_


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